


A Paralled Chance

by Amber_Serpent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU of an AU, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Dark Harry Potter, Gen, Gray Harry Potter, Parallel Universes, Powerful Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24566074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Serpent/pseuds/Amber_Serpent
Summary: (This is essentially an AU of an AU called The World Without Me by Eternal Cosmos.) Harry Potter, at age seventeen, enters a duel to the death. He emerges successful but not victorious, for everyone he knew was dead and gone. Fawkes gives Harry the chance to take out Voldemort in a parallel universe where he died. There, he'll see his friends and family, and this time they're alive. But, will that last for long?
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 23
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The World Without Me](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/32690) by Eternal Cosmos. 



**chapter one**

Harry stared at the phoenix incredulously. The bird simply hovered in the air, his wings dancing like flames in the air and his tail feathers melting the snow beneath him. Harry was close enough to the slightly flaming bird that the chill in the air didn’t penetrate his warmth.

“ _Do not simply stare at me, child,”_ Fawkes chided, his bright eyes staring into Harry’s, reminding him of the white glowing center of a fire instead of the black beads they had once been.

“You said ‘alternate universe’,” Harry said slowly. Fawkes nodded and Harry blinked at him slowly. “Why would you bring me to an alternate universe?”

“ _Look around you, child,”_ the phoenix said softly, making Harry cringe at the carnage around him. _“Your home is in ruin and all you know is dead. You could gain your family again.”_

“But they would not be my family, would they?” Harry asked bitterly, a lump forming in his throat as he refused to look anywhere around him. The castle was destroyed, bits and pieces of rubble were littering the ground. The roofs of the towers were smoking and Harry could see a flicker of flames out of the corner of his eyes. This was not as worrying, however. The castle could simply be fixed. What could not be fixed, however, were the bodies littering the ground.

Death Eaters and Hogwarts-goers alike laid dead on the ground, various injuries and spells having been their downfall. Before Harry had fallen to Voldemort’s spell, he had seen more people fall to the _Avada Kedavra_ curse in a flash of green light. Of course, others fell to werewolves while some fell to Nagini. Then, there were those who fell to giants and the Death Eaters who took pleasure in using various illegal and illegal Dark spells, some Harry knew and some he did not.

“ _But they could be,”_ Fawkes said in his melodious voice, the first one Harry heard after he woke from Voldemort’s second backfired attempt to kill him. Harry was beginning to suspect that he couldn’t die _._ God knew how many times he should have died the past year and a half.

“They could be...” Harry muttered. “But they won’t know me. And it’s not like my mum and dad would be alive, would they?” Harry’s voice was tinged with hope and that hope dissolved at the phoenix’s sad head shake.

“ _But others are,”_ Fawkes said. _“Have you made your decision, Harry Potter?”_

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he looked down at the ground. Should he take the chance to see his family again? Should he take the chance to save them? He didn’t know anything of this world, this alternate universe. Fawkes said that he had been killed as a baby there when he should have died in this world. Did that mean that Voldemort was running around at his full power? Did that mean that numerous others were dead? Had the man created horcruxes in this world? He had a feeling that the answer was yes, but that Voldemort hadn’t created more than seven horcruxes. Seven _was_ a magical number, after all, or that was what Hermione said anyway.

“Can you tell me _anything_ about his world?” Harry asked. “Other than the fact that me and my parents are dead?”

“ _Perhaps we should do this inside?”_ Fawkes asked. Harry then shivered. The wind had picked up and it had begun snowing sometime during his thinking. Even with Fawkes hovering in front of him, the warmth radiating off him like an open-flame, didn’t do much for the biting wind. Harry nodded and he barely had a second to react when Fawkes grabbed ahold of his arm and took them somewhere. Harry let out a litany of curses in surprise as he stumbled. That had felt like a mix of using the Floo, a Portkey, and apparating.

“No need for such language, my boy,” a familiar voice said, causing Harry’s head to snap behind him. He blinked dumbly at Dumbledore, who sat in a gaudy but cozy chair inside a portrait frame above the fireplace from across the Headmaster’s desk. Harry’s mouth worked open and closed before he shut it at Fawkes’s prompting.

“H-Headmaster,” Harry greeted, sending a glare to the snickering phoenix who sat on the desk. “Why did you take me here?” he directed at Fawkes, who straightened at the question.

“I suppose he has a reason,” Dumbledore said, staring at Harry behind half-moon glasses, his eyes somehow managing to twinkle despite being a painting (and a rather good one, at that). “It has been some time since I have last seen you, Harry. I must say, I like what you’ve done with your hair. Oh, and you’re no longer wearing glasses.” Harry ran a hand through his no doubt dirty and tangled hair self-consciously. He hadn’t had any way to cut his hair properly since he didn’t know any cosmetic charms and he hadn’t been about to attempt a cutting charm to chop it off, especially after experiencing how painful they were. So, it had grown well past his shoulders, stopping at mid-back. He had also managed to find some sort of ritual for his healing eyes while reading through Sirius’s library at Grimmauld Place (in which all books sat in his undetectable expanded dragonhide backpack that also happened to come from Grimmauld Place).

“Ah, sorry,” Harry grimaced, scourgifying his hair and clothes to remove the dirt, water, blood, and other disgusting matter. The spell did nothing about the unruliness of his hair, nor did it mend the rips and tears in his cloak and clothes, the burnt hole in his chest in particular which displayed an open wound.

“No problem, my boy,” Dumbledore said. Harry fought away a scowl. The “my boy” bit had gotten a bit old sometime between fifth and sixth year after Sirius had died. “Do you know why Fawkes brought you here? Do you need some information regarding Tom?”

“Not really,” Harry said blandly, “considering he’s dead.” When he spotted Dumbledore about to congratulate him, he also added sharply, “Along with _everyone else._ ” It went silent in the Headmaster’s office. All of the other portraits from previous Headmasters and Headmistresses were somber and horrified at this news.

“E-Everyone?” Dumbledore said before collecting himself. “Surely someone else survived.”

Harry shook his head and pursed his lips, swallowing thickly and pushing back the burning of his eyes. “Fawkes offered me a chance to redo things, so to speak. He wouldn’t have offered if even one person who fought was alive, right?” Fawkes nodded and Harry closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose as his nostrils flared. A few tears fell and it took him a few minutes to collect himself and to wipe his eyes.

“You should take a seat, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly.

Despite the grief starting to take over him, Harry cracked a mischievous smile and looked over his shoulder. “Can I sit in your chair?”

“By all means, do so,” Dumbledore said, gesturing to the rather large red plush chair behind Harry. Harry grinned and turned to eye the worn fabric. It looked deadly comfortable, and when he sat in it, he realized that it _was_ very comfortable.

“I can see why you didn’t want me to destroy this chair,” Harry murmured, remembering what Dumbledore said after he threw a rampage in the office after Sirius died.

After a few seconds of letting Harry settle in, Dumbledore questioned kindly, “What did Fawkes tell you about this ‘redo’, Harry?”

“Not much,” Harry admitted. “That was the reason he brought me here. It was to tell me more of this ‘alternate universe’ and how he could take me there.” His voice then turned quiet and he messed with a thread on the arm of the chair. “He said it would give me a chance to save everyone and maybe get my family back.”

“They wouldn’t know you, my boy.”

Harry nodded. “I know that. But the chance to see those people again? Alive and safe and _happy_? How could I refuse? Fawkes said that Voldemort’s killing people in that world and the me there was killed. I could _save_ them. I _know_ how to kill him this time.” Harry’s had turned to steel and he looked from Dumbledore’s pale blue eyes to Fawkes’s flame ones.

“ _It seems like you have made your choice, child,”_ Fawkes said.

“I... think I have,” Harry told him before looking down again. “It would be good to probably get some things, though, before I go. I’ve got a ton of stuff from Grimmauld Place before it was burnt down, and I’ve got my cloak and the Elder wand since mine’s broken. I can probably fix it or something. I wouldn’t be able to use my vaults at Gringotts in the other world. Well, not until I’ve killed Voldemort and I’ve proven through a Blood Rite or something that I’m the Potter Heir.” He frowned in concern. “Would it even say that I’m a Potter?”

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and pet the portrait version of Fawkes, who trilled to his living counterpart. “Yes, I believe it would, Harry. You are still Harry Potter, whether you are from this universe or that. Your blood would be the same as it had been in that one. And while the you in that world is dead, you are still you, and you are a making of your mother and your father. Their blood runs through you, as do their family’s. Perhaps during your Blood Rite, you’ll learn that you are more than a Potter.” Harry blinked slowly at the vaguely evasive and mystifying words.

“Oh... kay...” he murmured underneath his breath before he grimaced as a thought came to him. “Shit, how am I supposed to go to Gringotts, though? We kinda... broke into it for one of Tom’s horcruxes.”

“ _I will take you to the chieftain of the bank to for you to explain your actions,”_ Fawkes told Harry, who gaped at him.

“They’ll _kill_ me!” he exclaimed. “You want _me_ to go _there_?”

“ _You are the savior of the Wizarding World, child. The goblins may have remained neutral, but they will accept that should you not have stolen from them, that Voldemort would have remained alive, dwindling their customers.”_

Harry’s mouth worked before he managed to say, “That kinda makes sense. But are you _sure_ they won’t kill me? I _did_ steal from one of their most prominent customers along with unleashing one of their dragons.”

“You unleashed a dragon?” Dumbledore asked, blinking at Harry from behind his glasses.

“We rode it out of there,” Harry said bluntly.

“Hmm...” Dumbledore murmured. “I wish I would have gotten the chance to ride a dragon. I’ve had Fawkes fly me around a few times though I suppose riding a dragon would be completely different.” Harry just blinked at the old man and accepted the statement as it was. That wasn’t the first odd thing that Dumbledore’s said.

“Should we go now?” Harry asked Fawkes, turning to him.

“ _Allow the world to discover the death of Voldemort,”_ Fawkes said. _“I still have to inform you about your alternate universe. But first, I believe that you should have a rest. When was the last time you’ve slept in a bed?”_

Harry blinked and his exhaustion finally showed itself. He hid a yawn behind his hand and forced himself to blink. he really _was_ tired and his injuries were starting to hurt. He suspected that he hadn’t felt them due to adrenaline and shock, but now that he was coming out of it (or reminded, Harry supposed), the injuries were catching up to him.

“You can sleep in my quarters,” Dumbledore piped up, obviously seeing Harry’s exhaustion.

“Hasn’t Professor McGonagall been using them?” Harry yawned with a furrowed brow.

“I’m afraid she could not bring herself to do so,” Dumbledore stated sadly. “My quarters have been empty for a few months now. The house elves have cleaned it on occasion and some clean robes and clothes should be up there. I assume when you mentioned that everyone else was dead that you also meant the house elves?” Harry nodded, too tired for his grief to rear its head at him. “Well, go ahead and sleep, Harry. You have much to do tomorrow.” Dumbledore motioned for a set of stairs and Harry stumbled up them, barely listening as the portraits of the other Headmasters and Headmistresses began to discuss all that they had learned today. He barely managed to shed his clothes and pull on the clean heavy night-shirt before flopping into bed.

  
  


Harry woke up to the scent of bacon and eggs, causing his stomach to rumble. He sat up slowly and rubbed the crust out of his eyes, blinking slowly at the silver tray of food on the nightstand.

“... How?” he murmured, remembering seeing the dead bodies of house elves near various bodies and bloodied cutlery.

“ _I believe Hogwarts wished to keep you healthy, child,”_ Fawkes said, making Harry jump. Harry pushed himself against the headboard of the bed and he stared at the slightly flaming phoenix who sat on a large elaborate perch. The fire on the end of the bird’s feathers only gave warmth, however, instead of catching the bedroom on fire.

“The castle?” Harry asked after clearing his throat.

“ _Hogwarts,”_ Fawkes corrected, _“is more sentient than anyone knows. I believe she identifies you as an heir.”_

“Heir?” Harry asked while pulling the steaming plate of food onto his lap. The cup of what Harry identified to be tea didn’t even slosh the liquid inside, which made Harry wonder what kind of enchantments had been put on the rather large mug. He sighed after a sip of the drink, it having been at least a few months since he last had anything other than wand-conjured water to drink.

“ _Of at least one of the Hogwarts Founders,”_ Fawkes informed Harry just as he took another sip of tea. Harry spluttered as he inhaled a bit of the hot liquid and he began coughing, making his eyes water. Fawkes added after a second’s thought, _“No, she identifies you as the heir to_ two _of the Founders.”_ This time, Harry learned his lesson and he didn’t spit out any more tea.

“ _Two_?” Harry rasped, blinking furiously and wiping at his eyes before he managed to calm down. “Who?”

“ _She says that you’re related to Godric through your mother’s side, and I must say she did look rather like him, and although you_ are _distantly related to Salazar, you gained heirship mainly through conquest and due to the fact that you are Riddle’s closest distant relative. His cousin, I believe.”_

“My mum was related to Gryffindor?” Harry asked, amazed. “But I thought she was Muggleborn.”

“ _She_ was _a Muggleborn. All Muggleborns have to have magic ancestry in order to have magic. That is why many of the oldest wizards, such as Nicholas Flamel, who died at six-hundred and sixty-five years old, are astonished at blood purity ideals numerous pureblood families have. They should all know that in order to be a witch or wizard you have to have magical blood. Many ‘muggles’ that have magic children are, in fact, very distant Squibs that have no way ‘tap into’ or use their magic. The only reason their children have magic is due to the fact that their ancestors all had enough trace magic to the point where it was strong enough to fully manifest in one of the children. In fact, many Muggleborns’ parents are on par with a Squib’s magical powers. If they had known that they had magic, they could have learned to utilize it.”_

“Was Voldemort’s mother a Muggleborn?”

“ _She was more of a Squib,”_ Fawkes informed him after some thinking. _“That, I suppose, is due to the number of inbreeding purebloods do. They believe that they are preserving their blood and magic and are making themselves more powerful; but they are, in fact, doing the opposite. Magic needs new blood to flourish and grow. All they are doing is allowing it to weaken and siphon away. It is the same with animals and humans; inbreeding with blood-relatives will cause birth defects. The magic in your blood removes most of those defects, allowing most witches and wizards to remain ‘pretty’ and functional, but it is also causing them to become sterile in a warning to let them know that they need new blood. Many do not understand this warning, and thus they continue to struggle with breeding. Your father was an only child to an elder couple, and it is due to inbreeding that caused them so long to gave children. It is rather fortunate that your mother was Muggleborn or you would not be so powerful.”_

Harry blinked at Fawkes, his breakfast long forgotten. “Are you saying that half-bloods are more powerful that purebloods?”

Fawkes ducked his head. _“In a way, they could be. Did it never occur to you that the three most powerful wizards of your time are half-bloods?”_

Harry frowned and thought. “Voldemort, Dumbledore, and who’s the third?” He looked up at the phoenix and he could have sworn that the bird rolled his eyes at him.

“ _You, Harry, are the third. And do not deny so, you have destroyed one of the most powerful Dark Lords in existence.”_ Harry opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Fawkes ordered, _“Eat your breakfast, child. You will need your strength.”_ The bird then flew out of the room, leaving Harry with a bounty of thoughts and his still, somehow hot, meal.

It didn’t take him long to finish breakfast and to pull on a set of rather traditional wizarding clothes (not robes, however, a formal-looking set of trousers and a shirt with an elaborate green and silver dragon-skin cloak that he wouldn’t mind keeping) that fit him perfectly. Harry couldn’t help but think of Hogwarts and how she was apparently sentient (he had heard as much from Dumbledore before and now Fawkes) and identified him as an heir to not one, but _two_ of the Founders. And, depending on his clothes the castle provided, he could only agree with Fawkes that he was the heir of Gryffindor _and_ Slytherin. The two houses that were widely known to having conflicts in and out of the castle.

Harry hissed in pain when he tugged on his shirt and he prodded lightly at the brand new scar that was forming. It was in the shape of lighting, but instead of a single bolt like the one on his forehead, it was actually shaped like a naturally-occurring smattering of branches that covered his heart. There was a slight flare of what Harry could only describe being magic before something flashed in the corner of his eye. Harry had his wand (the Elder wand) out in a second before he realized that it was just a small jar of what looked to be paste as well as a vial of sorts. He frowned and looked at them; the jar was an ointment and the vial was for pain.

“Uh, thanks?” Harry called out hesitantly. Harry got the vague sense of “You’re welcome” and he shuddered. That felt odd.

After downing the pain potion and dabbing some ointment on his chest, as well as dressing completely, Harry trekked down to the office where Dumbledore was speaking with Fawkes (real-life Fawkes, not portrait Fawkes) and could apparently understand the melodious chirping and trilling sounds.

“Harry, I must say, you look like a proper heir!” Dumbledore stated joyfully when he spotted Harry.

“Thanks?” Harry said, looking down at his clothes. “The cloak’s kinda cool. Lighter than I thought it’d be and it’s warm but I don’t feel hot.”

“Ah, Slytherin’s cloak, I’d assume,” one of the other portraits said.

“What?” Harry said flatly. “This is _his_ cloak?”

“Whose did you think it was? The clasp is a snake.” Harry blinked down at the clasp and realized that it _was_ a snake. A very pretty silver snake with emerald eyes.

“ _Oh, cool,”_ Harry said, still looking at the snake clasp. He blinked when he realized that he was talking in Parseltongue.

“That’s interesting,” Dumbledore muttered. “I could have sworn that the only reason you could speak to snakes was due to having part of Tom’s soul inside you and gaining some of his powers. Though, it does make sense as you are Slytherin’s heir.”

“Okay,” Harry said loudly, “we’re getting off track. I’ve still got to go to Gringotts—and hopefully not die in the process—and grab everything I can from my vaults. I’ve also got to get Fawkes to tell me everything he knows about this alternate universe so I’m prepared when I get there.”

“’Prepared’? Not very Gryffindorish of you,” the portrait of Phineas Negillus Black sniffed.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m also Slytherin, then, isn’t it?” Harry snarked back with a scowl he learned from Snape. The portrait laughed loudly and Harry’s scowl deepened.

“I see I was correct in assuming that you would do well in my house,” Phineas said hauntingly. “I have no idea why that blasted hat put you in Gryffindor.”

“Probably because I asked it to,” Harry muttered loud enough for the portraits to hear. “And, to be fair, he _did_ want to put me in Slytherin. I just didn’t want to be in the same house as Malfoy.”

“Enough, enough,” Dumbledore called, immediately gaining order. “You said you wanted to go to Gringotts, Harry?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” Harry murmured, using his Occlumency skills to hide the colouring of his cheeks and to calm himself down. “Fawkes, should you take me now? What time is it?”

“ _It is nearing eight in the morning, child,”_ Fawkes said, and at Harry’s baffled expression, he continued, _“You were quite physically, emotionally, mentally, and magically exhausted yesterday.”_

“Exhausted enough to sleep _twenty-four hours_?” Harry asked sarcastically.

“ _You should have slept longer,”_ the phoenix informed him, much to his surprise. _“I have contacted the chieftain of Gringotts and he has agreed to an audience with you. After you’ve explained himself, he will then inform you as to whether you are allowed to empty your vaults or not.”_

“It’s a good thing I bagged a few thousand Galleons before all this hit, isn’t it?” Harry asked as Fawkes landed on his shoulders. Thankfully, when he landed on the ground again, he did not stumble. He suspected that was Fawkes's doing.

Harry looked around and noticed that he was in an office, which was currently occupied by an elderly and regal looking goblin. When the goblin noticed him, Harry straightened up immediately and threw up his Occlumency shields just in case.

“Ah, Mr. Harry Potter,” the goblin, Rookgott according to the nameplate on his desk, greeted Harry with a nasty look. Harry, having read something about goblin politics, vaguely remembered that goblins tended to bow as a sign of respect, and so he did. Rookgott merely nodded and gestured to a seat, which Harry took. Fawkes settled himself on the back of the other chair without damaging the valuable-looking and worn dragon-hide. “Explain yourself for why you decided to rob my bank and for why I shall not have you branded as a thief.”

Harry mentally winced. “I have a good explanation for that.” And he did, so Harry began to weave a story of Tom Riddle and his Horcruxes. Rookgott merely listened, and the only emotion Harry had spotted was the subtle widening of his eyes when Harry revealed that Voldemort had made _seven_ intentional horcruxes, not just one. (He didn’t mention the fact that he, himself, was the seventh horcrux.) When Harry finished explaining why he entered Bellatrix’s vault, Rookgott merely stared at him.

“You do realize, Mr. Potter, that if Ms. Lestrange had still been in Azkaban at the time, that, as the heir to the Black line, you could have taken it upon yourself to enter her vault legally?” Harry merely blinked and hid his shock behind his Occlumency shields.

“I do now? But I couldn’t get into her vault because she was out of Azkaban, right?” Harry decided to ask.

“Correct.” It was silent for a few seconds before the elderly goblin sighed. “I shall inform my employees that you are pardoned from any wrongdoings as you had reasonable cause and that you are allowed access to your vaults.”

“Thank you,” Harry said softly but sincerely. Rookgott merely nodded and wrote something on a piece of paper before placing it in a tray where it promptly burst into flames.

“I assume that you would like to be taken to your vaults?” Rookgott asked.

Harry nodded before he thought about something. “Uh, sir? I don’t have the keys to any of the Potter or Black vaults beside the trust vault key.”

“I can craft you new ones but it’ll cost you.” Harry simply nodded and provided a few drops of blood when prompted to create his new keys. And a few hundred Galleons lighter and free to roam the bank, Harry proceeded to push as much gold as he could into his bottomless and feather-light bag as possible. He mainly left the Black coin vault alone as he knew that Andromeda was the only remaining Black, he thought with a pang toward Tonks and her dead unborn child. The main Potter vault also had quite enough money in it to last at least a few lifetimes without work. As he shoved book after book into his bag, now into the non-coin vaults, Harry prompted Fawkes to tell him about the alternate universe.

“ _From what I gather, it is near exactly the same as this world. The only difference is the fact that you died on the night you survived in this world. Voldemort was once again pushed into a near-wraith status before he somehow regained health and a body and began taking over magical Britain again. All I know is that the stone failed, the diary was never handed off to Ginny Weasley or any other student, meaning the basilisk is still alive and was never unleashed, the ritual you unwilling participated in your fourth year also didn’t happen as Voldemort had no way to gain Albus’s blood, his main enemy there, and he only recently gained a body._

“ _However, his tactics into taking over Britain are different. It is not as direct as it was here. Voldemort is merely having his followers scare the world by occasionally attacking areas such as Diagon Alley, though rarely there, mainly-wizarding towns, and Hogsmeade on occasion. He has only shown his face a few times, one of those dueling Albus, who is also not dead in this world.”_

Harry nodded and sat back, looking around him. He left the jewelry and jewels and most of the armor here since he didn’t have a need for them. This was the last vault he had to look through as it was quite easy to spell all of the Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts into his bag. He only had three non-coin vaults to go through, one of them for the Potters, and two of them for the Blacks. The Potter vaults he mainly left alone as he would have access to them in the other world soon enough, but he did shove all of the library and a few cool-looking trinkets into his bag to look at later. The first Black vault was _filled_ with Dark magic. It was to the point where even if Harry hadn’t learned to sense magic, he would have felt it anyway. Many of the items were left there, save for a wicked set of swords and daggers. The second vault was more or less a library along with some harmless but gaudy jewelry, old clothes and tapestries that he didn’t care about, and some furniture.

“Is that all you know?” Harry asked Fawkes as he stood. His limbs were aching slightly from moving so much and he not only felt exhausted but also hungry and in pain. He rubbed his chest slightly and reminded himself to dab the remainder of that ointment onto the cut. It seemed that Dark curse scars didn’t heal as any other scars did. That was probably why the scar on his forehead hadn’t healed immediately when he was a baby.

“ _I’m afraid it is,”_ Fawkes said. _“I could only gain so much information or else you’d be at too much of an advantage. As it is, you already know too much. Sending you back with anything more that you cannot simply learn will hinder you, I’m afraid.”_

Harry nodded though he felt slightly annoyed. He supposed it was a rule of magic or whatever so he didn’t push it.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked instead.

“ _Go as in leave this dungeon or go as into the other universe?”_ Fawkes said, flying over to him and placing his claws on Harry’s shoulders. Fawkes wasn’t as heavy as Harry expected and he wondered if Fawkes was somehow making himself light or if it was natural for phoenixes.

“Well, both,” Harry said. “But I mean leave the vault.”

Fawkes took them back to Hogwarts and this time Harry stumbled. He glared at Fawkes, now knowing that he had been the one to stop him from stumbling in Rookgott’s office.

“How was your day?” Dumbledore asked. “It must have been eventful, it’s practically night!”

Harry’s eyes jumped to the large windows on the deck behind the office and his eyebrows rose, seeing that it was practically pitch black. “No wonder I’m hungry,” he murmured before addressing Dumbledore. “Well, the chieftain of Gringotts didn’t kill me for stealing Hufflepuff’s cup from Bellatrix’s vault, so that’s good. And he pardoned me from any of my wrongdoings after I explained about the horcruxes and whatever. Other than that, I spent most of the day tossing a few million coins and a few thousand books into my bag.” Harry held up his bag, which, despite having a featherweight charm on it, felt weighed down. “Now, what’s been going on at the castle?”

Harry took a seat at the Headmaster’s chair again and grinned when a tray of food appeared in front of him. He sipped his wine and made sure not to spit it out when Dumbledore mentioned that the Minister and others had shown up at the castle, only to spot the massacre and the ruins, as well as Voldemort's body. Newspapers had gone out about the defeat of You-Know-Who and everyone was both saddened that the Boy-Who-Lived was nowhere to be seen but happy that the war seemed to be over at last. There were also people currently outside cleaning up the bodies and informing the remaining living family of the deceased. Apparently, however, they were also trying to decide what they were going to do with Hogwarts as there was not one member of faculty left alive and they had no funds to even begin repairing it, let alone open it for school next year.

Harry frowned and he sat back, his dinner having been flashed away when he was finished with it. “Do you think I should donate all of my vaults and most of my money to clean the place up? I don’t really need however much I’ve got and there’s also the vaults in the next universe. I may be leaving this one but it’ll still be here trying to fix up after the war.”

“That is a great idea, Harry,” Dumbledore said kindly. “Do you have an idea as to how you are going to go about it?”

“I left the money in the Black vault alone for Andromeda since she’s the remaining Black and I don’t really want it. So why don’t I just dump some of my own money in the entry-way with a note stating that all of the funds have been donated to the school and the clean-up, as well as for donations to helping families who were ruined due to the war? I should probably give my keys to Gringotts to hold onto with a note giving my permission to keep some things for themselves and to give the rest to the Ministry strictly for the clean-up and for the families. I could probably also mention that it’s the last act of the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ who died oh-so heroically after slaying Voldemort?” Harry suggested the last sentence sarcastically.

Phineas, who had been listening in, let out a mad bark of laughter that reminded Harry slightly of Sirius. _Family resemblance?_ Harry thought with a pang of grief. “Good grief, lad,” the portrait said with a large grin.

“ _If you will write that letter to Rookgott, I’ll deliver it,”_ Fawkes said. Harry nodded and summoned a piece of parchment and a quill, swiftly writing one letter to Rookgott as to what he wants to be done with the Potter estates, and that Andromeda Tonks, the last remaining Black, and her husband will be given access to the Black vaults and the money there. He then wrote a letter for the money he’s going to leave in Hogwarts stating what he wants to be done with it and that he, Harry Potter, only just about managed to do all this before he died.

“I’ll just finish this before going to sleep,” Harry said, handing Fawkes the letter. It was easy to dump a few thousand Galleons and other coin onto the ground as all Harry had to do was think of the amount he wanted to leave with the bag held upside-down and all of it dumped out without letting anything else go.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Dumbledore said as Harry headed toward the stairs.

“Goodnight, sir,” he replied.


	2. Chapter 2

**chapter two**

" _Are you ready to do this, Harry Potter?"_ Fawkes asked. Harry, dressed in the ragged clothes from after the battle, swallowed nervously and nodded. _"Do you know the plan?"_

"Yes," he said, making sure that he had his bottomless pouch on him. It had everything that he needed; knowledge via books, his money, a few changes of clothes, Slytherin's cloak, his invisibility cloak, the resurrection stone, the weird-looking Elder wand which changed sometime in Harry's possession, his broken wand, his Firebolt from Sirius, and one of his most prized possessions—his photo album.

Fawkes nodded and flew onto Harry's shoulders. He was warm and Harry could see the flicker of flames dancing harmlessly from the corners of his eyes. Just as Fawkes was about to transport him to the other universe, there was a familiar owl's screech.

Harry's head whipped up and he searched the sky, his eyes locking onto the white form of a snowy owl. A snowy owl with familiar amber eyes that was flying straight for him. Harry held out his arm instinctively and the owl landed on it, staring into his eyes. Harry's throat tightened and his eyes burned.

"H-Hedwig?" he rasped out, causing the owl to hoot. "How? I thought you were dead." Hedwig fluttered her wings but Harry had no idea what she was trying to say. All he knew was that she hadn't apparently died and that she was here. "Fawkes, do you know what's going on?"

" _It appears that your familiar has returned to you,"_ he said needlessly. _"I do not know how or why, but it has happened. Sometimes, when a familiar's master needs their help, they go to them, even if they had died previously."_

"S-So this is her? Sh-She's not going to die again, is she?" Harry asked, causing Hedwig to hoot and nibble on his fingers reassuringly.

" _No,"_ Fawkes said. _"She is your familiar and you are her master. She has returned to you and only you. She will never leave you, not until your death."_

"So she's immortal?"

" _Not how I am immortal, but yes, she will not die until you have. Your lives are tied together. Can you feel your bond?"_

Harry closed his eyes and pushed his magic out, searching for the bond that Fawkes spoke of. He felt a tendril of magic that led to the being sitting on his arm. "I feel it," he whispered.

" _That is called a Familiar's Bond. It is a rare occurrence but it forms upon the love of a master for their familiar and a familiar for their master."_

Harry nodded and pet his owl who he had thought he'd never see again. "I'm glad she's coming with us. She _is_ coming, right?"

" _Of course, child. We must go now. Good luck on your quest for family, Harry Potter."_

It was then that Harry felt a great pull at his navel, feeling much like the previous travels he's done with Fawkes, but also completely different. It was almost painful and Harry fell to the ground when he landed in snow, feeling exhausted. There was a burst of flame and Harry watched with slightly teary eyes as Fawkes went up in a pile of ash but did not return. It was then that Harry shifted forward and passed out in the snow, Hedwig's worried hoots falling onto deaf ears.

Harry woke to a sharp nip on his ear that he knew drew blood and he let out a hiss of pain, rolling over. He leaned up on his elbows and looked around him, hissing as Hedwig jumped onto his chest. The snowy owl moved and hooted an apology, defending herself. Harry just rolled his eyes and gave her a slight pat before standing, clutching his cloak with a shiver.

He summoned his wand from his bag and cast a swift heating charm on his clothes before taking in his surroundings. He had voted against going to the Leaky Cauldron since he knew that Tom probably wouldn't have given him a room, instead probably suggesting an inn in Knockturn alley. Harry honestly didn't blame him. If he had seen someone who looked like him walking into his bar and inn, he would have turned himself away.

As it was, Harry looked more than a little rough. His hair was knotted and still sitting past his shoulders, his clothes were, rags, and he didn't necessarily look like a follower of the Light, rather someone who was probably a Death Eater. Before having Fawkes take him here, Harry had cast a strong glamour on himself. All it really did was make his features a little sharper and made his eyes a silvery-gray. He couldn't necessarily make himself taller without wasting energy (which he was still building up), though he wasn't that short. His height had most definitely been affected due to his childhood treatment, but he had regained much of that height from how much nutrients he got at Hogwarts. He stood a little under average (for wizards) at five-foot-ten.

All-in-all, he looked very much like a younger, and shorter, Sirius Black.

A strong gust of wind brought Harry out of his thoughts and he looked around him. He had chosen, instead of Diagon Alley, to be brought to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. He planned to stay at the Three Broomsticks and had made himself look a little tired roughed up as to not get too many questions. Especially since Fawkes had brought him here in the middle of the night.

Shoving his wand into its holster, Harry shuffled through the raging snow and harsh winds until he came upon the weather ward that more or less blocked most of the harsh weather from getting into the village. Snowflakes began to dust his hair and cloak and Harry, despite having cast a slight warming charm on himself, was shivering by the time he reached Madam Rosmerta's pub.

The door creaked open and Harry mentally winced but was relieved when there were only a few people around, all too inebriated to pay him any attention. He caught Rosmerta's eye almost immediately, however, and soon he had the busty blonde woman's attention.

"Oh, dear! Did you just come in from the storm?" she asked, eyeing him warily. Harry pretended not to see her unease, knowing that he made a picture.

"Y-Yes," he said, shivering slightly but offering the woman a tired smile. "May I have a room, please? I'm rather tired and cold."

"Of course!" Rosmerta exclaimed. "How long do you need it for?"

Harry frowned and dug around in his bag, summoning a few dozen Galleons and handing them to the woman. "How long will that last me?"

Rosmerta's eyebrows rose at the number of Galleons casually handed to her but dutifully counted them before saying, "Well, you've got enough here for about two weeks worth of board, but if you'd rather, that'll last you a little over a week with complimentary breakfast included."

"Can I do the second one?" Harry asked after a few moments of thinking. He remembered how good the cooking was here and he was very willing to hand out as many Galleons as needed to eat it.

"'Course," Rosmerta hummed, gesturing Harry to follow her. Harry kept his wand on hand and looked around. No one had noticed his absence and no one was noticing Rosmerta leading him up the stairs alone. _That's dangerous,_ he thought with a slight frown.

"You look awfully young," Rosmerta said after a few moments of silence, stopping in front of a door in the middle of the hallway. Harry noticed the woman looking at him from the corner of her eye and he offered a kind, but tired, smile. His skill in Occlumency was surely going to get a workout here (as well as his skills in lying and hiding emotions, but those kinda came hand-in-hand).

Harry simply shrugged, looking into the provided room curiously. It wasn't too small and the bed was pretty big and looked comfortable. A dresser and a few empty shelves were provided, along with a desk. There was a fireplace on the far wall with windows on either side of it and a door sat at the foot of the bed, no doubt leading to a bathroom.

"I thought that you'd like one of the rooms meant for longer visits," she said. "You're welcome to put up any wards or charms to prevent snooping, so know that I don't condone any of that going on in my business. If I catch anyone in someone else's room, they're kicked out without a reimbursement. Mild silencing charms have already been added to the room, as well."

"That's very kind of you," Harry said softly, ignoring the part about not snooping. "The room is very nice."

Rosmerta smiled at him before donning a stern expression. "I have to know, darling, are you a runaway from Hogwarts?"

Harry blinked at her for a few seconds before pulling on an amused smile. "No, Madam, I'm not a runaway. And even if I was, I'm of age."

Rosmerta pursed her lips and nodded. "I'm sorry for all of the questions. I've gotten a few students running from a fight over the years and I more or less leave them until the next day. The Headmaster knows to check with me if a student's missing. Well, anyway, here's your key. If you need anything, go ahead and call me. You look just about ready to pass out. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Harry smiled genuinely at the witch, touched by her concern. "I'll be fine, Madam, nothing that a good night's sleep and a big breakfast can't help."

The woman appeared to hesitate for a few seconds before she nodded, waving a goodbye and shutting the door behind her. Harry let out a sigh and yawned. Apparently, he was more tired than he expected. He wandlessly and non-verbally locked the door and added on top of the weak silencing ward, just in case. He hadn't had any nightmares yet, but last night's sleep was somewhat restless. And he had gotten nightmares while hunting horcruxes and building up his knowledge and skills, so there was that, as well. He was bound to wake up screaming at some point.

Hedwig settled onto one of the higher shelves and promptly tucked her head into her wing. Harry opened the window so she could leave and cast a quick spell that Hermione had taught him that more or less kept the wind out and the heat in. He transfigured his robes into something to sleep in and crawled into his bed, almost immediately falling asleep. Apparently, he was more tired than he thought.

Harry woke up to the sun shining in his face and he realized that it was pretty late in the day. He checked the shelf that Hedwig had been perched on but she was gone, probably out hunting mice that had buried themselves under the snow. He simply enjoyed the warmth and the peace and quiet, letting his thoughts wander to what he was going to do here.

Horcruxes. One of the first things he was going to deal with was the horcruxes. Hopefully, Voldemort had stuck to his "magic number" of split soul parts so he didn't have to go digging around for oily-feeling objects. Harry frowned and wondered how he was going to get the one in the Room of Requirement. It was just about the middle of the school year so it would be odd to just randomly join in. He would have to find a way to do that later on. He'll just stick to some of the other horcruxes first. Like the locket (nope, didn't have access to Grimmauld Place), or perhaps the diary (not likely, the Malfoys probably still had it), and definitely not the cup (he wasn't the Black heir anymore) or Nagini (he shouldn't reveal himself to Voldemort yet), so the only ones he could take care of easily were actually the diadem and the Gaunt ring since he himself wasn't a horcrux anymore. That also meant that Voldemort probably made a _completely different_ Horcrux that he didn't know anything about.

"Bullocks," Harry muttered just as Hedwig came sweeping through the window. "Catch any mice?" Harry asked her, sitting up to pet her. Hedwig just hooted at him which Harry took as a "Yes, and they were delicious." "Do you want to come down to breakfast with me?" Again, Hedwig hooted a yes.

Instead of getting dressed immediately and heading down, Harry realized that he was somewhat dirty from yesterday and that his hair was still a mess. He reveled in the warmth provided in the bathroom perhaps a little too long, but as he didn't have to bathe quickly to save water, he took his time cleaning his long hair and the rest of his body. The mark on his chest had healed somewhat, but Hogwarts had provided a few more vials of the ointment and the pain-reliever which he was going to put on after toweling off. Harry supposed that he should pick up a cauldron and some potion supplies when he went to Diagon Alley later today. He knew from experience that the apothecary here didn't provide the best materials for effective potions.

After toweling off and relieving himself, Harry startled when he saw his reflection. He had forgotten that he was wearing a glamour. _I really do look like Sirius,_ he thought, staring into his faux-grey eyes. He blinked the grief away and shook his head before brushing his teeth and pulling his hair into a low ponytail with a few curled tendrils hanging down, his scar completely on display. The one thing he liked about having a new start in this universe was that not only would no one recognize him as the Boy-Who-Lived, but they wouldn't know him at all. At least, not until he was ready to reveal himself.

Shaking away his thoughts, Harry headed back to the bedroom to change after dabbing some ointment on his chest. Along with the potions and the ointment for his injuries, Hogwarts had provided a few sets of clothes since Harry's were so damaged to the point where even a simple _reparo_ couldn't do anything. He pulled Slytherin's cloak from his bag first since he had come to like it over the previous day, as well as a pair of black slacks and a black button-down with a dark green dragon-hide vest to match his cloak. As he didn't have another pair of shoes, he continued to wear the worn black dragonhide boots with a slight wedged heel that he had borrowed from Sirius and never got to return.

"How do I look?" Harry asked Hedwig. "Is this universe ready for James 'Jamie' Evans?" The snow owl simply ruffled her wings before flying up to his shoulder to catch a ride downstairs. Harry had to admit, his choice for his name here wasn't very clever. He obviously chose James as his first name because of his dad and Evans as his last name because of his mum. He didn't really want to be called by his father's name during his stay here, so he chose a close alternative that he was fine with and made sense; Jamie.

"Hullo!" Rosmerta said Harry as he stepped into the pub. "You must have been pretty tired last night. It's almost lunch!"

Harry put a kind smile on his face as he ignored the curious and suspicious eyes on him. "Hello, Madam Rosmerta," he greeted the middle-aged woman (well, middle-age for a Muggle, he supposed, and third-age for a wizard?). "Thank you again for the room. It's very nice and accommodating."

"Oh, hush," the blonde said, waving a hand about. "Now, how about some late breakfast Mr..."

"Evans," Harry filled in, offering a hand. "My name is James, or Jamie, Evans."

"Mr. Evans, then," Rosmerta said. "I can't say that it's a very common wizard name but it's nice, to say the least. Go ahead and take a seat anywhere, dear. I'll come out with your breakfast when it's ready."

Harry nodded and headed to one of the seats on the far end of the bar, situated perfectly so that he could see most of the room and the entrance to the bar. Hedwig jumped onto the old wooden counter and Harry spent a little time giving her affection since it had been over a year since he had last seen the owl. Since the owl had taken a fatal shot for him. He also listened to some of the closer patrons with a very subtle non-verbal enhanced hearing spell. It kind of worked the opposite of a silencing spell, allowing people to listen in rather than cut out. He scowled at what he heard.

"—looks dangerous—"

"—one of _His_ followers?—"

"—Dark-lookin' fella-"

"—that scowl, must be Dark—"

"Here ya' go, sweetheart," Rosmerta said cheerfully, dropping a breakfast sandwich in front of him, along with a bottle of butterbeer. Harry's expression softened and he offered a thankful smile at the woman.

"Thank you," Harry said again. "It's practically lunch yet you're giving me my breakfast."

"Nonsense," Rosmerta said. "You paid for a meal a day, I don't care which it is. Forget what I said last night. Now go ahead and eat up, you look like a bag of bones." Harry rolled his eyes at the mothering but dutifully took a bite out of his sandwich, humming in appreciation. He pulled out a few pieces of bacon and sausage and handed them to Hedwig, who took the offerings ecstatically. Harry suspected that the owl knew that she was going to get special-treatment until he could come down from the fact that his familiar, and once best friend, was no longer dead.

Harry couldn't spot Rosmerta when he was finished with his meal, so he simply _scourgified_ his plate and left a single Galleon in the center of it, adding a few minor hexes for anyone who wasn't Rosmerta who tried to pick it up. As he walked away from his plate, he heard a yelp and a muttered curse. Harry allowed a smirk to crawl across his face and his eyes flashed a darker colour. _Serves them right for trying to steal from such a kind woman,_ he thought to himself, heading outside to apparate to the Leaky Cauldron.

Many people eyed him suspiciously as he walked through the pub and toward the entrance of Diagon Alley, but Harry didn't care. Hedwig didn't jump from his shoulder to have a look around, simply choosing to glare around with those piercing amber eyes of hers. The first place he stopped by was a clothes shop. Instead of Madam Malkin's, who sold more low-end casual wear with the occasional sale of dress robes and dresses, Harry headed straight for Twilfitt and Tattings, who sold clothes mainly for the rich or for those who need heavy-duty gear.

A small bell chimed as he entered the store and the door closed behind him, cutting off numerous hostile and suspicious gazes. Various displays of wizarding clothes stood near their respective areas, most made of high-end silk and various hides and furs. Within an easy sweep of the shop, Harry spotted the fitting rooms in the back, the backroom behind the till, various displays if wizards' and witches' clothes, and rows upon rows of hats and shoes. Harry eyed up a pair of heavy-duty dragon-hide boots which not only advertised as "silver-toed" (Harry suspected that they were the magical equivalent of steel-toed workers boots), but were also stylish enough to look like a fashion statement. He had to say, the contrast of silver against the pitch-black looked quite beautiful.

"Ah, hello!" a masculine voice said cheerfully. Harry turned to give the shopkeep an appraising glance. The man was tall and thin, dressed in a set of odd semi-formal robes that acted more as a double-breasted suit than the traditional dress-like garment Dumbledore was known to wear, with slicked-back black hair that was beginning to pepper with gray.

"Hello," Harry said, keeping his voice somewhat neutral. "I'm looking for everyday wear, something like this." Harry gestured to his clothes and noticed how the shopkeep was currently eyeing his cloak.

"Of course, sir, of course," the shopkeep said, gesturing for Harry to follow him. "I'll need to measure you, however." The man led him back to one of the fitting rooms earlier and he was directed to stand upon the small platform as the wizard whipped out a tape measure, which vibrated in the air, its silver markings gleaming. Harry took off his cloak and levitated it over one of the chairs, not wanting to toss such a priceless item. It didn't take long for the man to begin measuring him while simultaneously word-vomiting questions about what kinds of fabrics he'd like and what sorts of styles he'd want.

Harry answered all of the man's questions as patiently as he could before he had the man trailing him like a puppy as Harry pointed out various styles and colors and fabrics he liked. Along with the casual wear, he bought a few sets of sleeping trousers since he often woke up sweaty due to nightmares. He did buy a night-shirt or two, however, just in case he wanted to switch things up. He nicked the pair of silver-toed boots from one of the shelves after checking the size, and picked up a pair of black dragon-hide gloves with silver fastenings that doubled as not only formal-wear, but also as Quidditch and protective gloves for handing potions ingredients.

After settling his order and paying ahead of time, Harry headed straight for the apothecary to purchase a cauldron and a set of potions ingredients. The cauldron he got was a size or two larger than the one Hogwarts students were supposed to get, and instead of being made of pewter, it was made of silver. The silver stopped any of the magic from being released from the potions, increasing their effectiveness. Brewing healing potions and such in the silver cauldron would make their healing properties increase. He also bought a full set of crystal vials for the same reason, and he picked up a holly and a crystal stirring rod due to some potion's need for external magic or for their need of no external magic. The shop owner raised an eyebrow at the litany of counteracting ingredients Harry settled on the counter, but after a barked, "Mind your business," Harry was left alone.

Harry got the rest of his items swiftly (an advanced broom-kit on a whim for his Firebolt, a few interesting books on modern healing, a quick dip into Knockturn alley to buy and promptly destroy a cabinet that was still there, and some quills and parchment and other stationery supplies like empty journals) before picking up half of his clothes order and shrinking the items and shoving them in his bag before apparating back to the Three Broomsticks.

"Jamie!" Rosmerta greeted as Harry strolled through the door. "Where's your owl? I could'a sworn you took her with you." Many patrons turned to stare at him suspiciously and Harry ignored their gazes as he walked over to Rosmerta.

"Hedwig's out stretching her wings at the moment," Harry said, eyeing up the numerous plates she carried as well as the mugs of beverages that floated above her head. "You doing okay there? Do you need some help?"

"Oh, no," Rosmerta waved him off as she bustled toward a booth, placing down the plates and beverages in front of their respective customers. "It's just a little busier today, that's all."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, looking around. He couldn't spot any more servers in the pub, meaning that Rosmerta was all alone today in waiting. "I don't see any other waiters or waitresses."

"I'm afraid I don't have any of them here," Rosmerta said, heading toward the kitchen to pick up some more plates of food. "Most of my workers are at Hogwarts at the moment. The two other employees I have are the cooks and there are so many people here that one of them can't spare the time to help out." Harry frowned and watched as she swiftly made her rounds, dropping off various drinks and plates towards patrons while taking orders at the same time. The woman had some sweat on her brow and Harry knew that it was due to the fact that she was currently running around like a headless chicken, not because she kept her pub warm because of the outside weather.

Harry headed up to his room to drop off his cloak and his bottomless bag of items. He locked them both in the dresser, setting up a bunch of different wards and hexes for anyone trying to snoop. A flash of white flew through the window and Harry held an arm out for Hedwig to perch on. "You wanna hang out in the pub with me?" he asked her.

Hedwig fluttered her wings and hooted, which Harry took as a yes. He lifted his arm and Hedwig jumped onto his shoulder. Harry cast a few quick wards and hexes for anyone trying to break into his room before heading down to the lively pub. Despite being early afternoon, and only being gone for five minutes, the pub had somehow filled up even more. Rosmerta was bustling about like a headless chicken and Harry frowned, feeling bad. "Go ahead and find a perch, Hedwig," Harry told his owl. "I'm going to talk with Madam Rosmerta for a few seconds."

"You look like a headless chicken," he said bluntly as the woman rushed around the bar, filling glasses with various beverages. The woman sent him a swift glare and Harry offered a crooked smile before his expression turned serious. "Listen, you're working yourself too hard and there are too many people for just you alone to serve. The rest of my afternoon is free and I'd be willing to help you out if you'd like."

Rosmerta placed her hands on her hips and gave Harry an appraising glance. He simply raised an eyebrow and kept an indifferent mask on his face. "You're that serious about needing a job?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not necessarily me needing a job rather than you needing the help," he said blandly before gesturing to a group of increasingly-agitated young-adult. "People are getting agitated about not getting to order or getting their orders quick enough. If you want the help, I'm happy to provide it. If you don't want the help, it's your loss. I'm not really looking for pocket money, I've got enough of that. I'm just offering my help because you were nice to me and offered me a room when nobody else would have."

The woman stared at him for a moment longer before sighing and jerking a thumb toward a door. "I've got uniforms back there but what you're wearing is perfectly fine. Go ahead and pull on one of the aprons. I'll start you out with getting orders for now."

Harry gave the woman a genuine smile and swiftly went to grab an apron to put on his clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

**chapter three**

It’s been a week since Harry came into this universe and he’s settled in pretty nicely. Rosmerta, after seeing how serious he was taking his job as a waiter, offered him a part-time job as one of her waiters. The occupants of Hogsmeade stopped staring at him too much after Harry gave no indication that he was evil or a follower of Voldemort, no matter what he looked like or the aura that surrounded him, and Harry began to enjoy the friendly banter he had with some of the regulars who had dropped their suspicions of him.

“You know,” Rosmerta said as the two of them began wiping down some of the tables after the pub closed, “I’ve been thinking you look familiar.”

“Oh?” Harry said as his heart began to pound in his chest.

“Yeah,” she said, tapping her chin as she looked him over. Harry straightened up under her gaze and lifted a single brow, prompting her to continue. “You look almost exactly like one of the Hogwarts professors. You know of a Sirius Black?” Harry’s throat immediately tightened with grief and he threw up his Occlumency shields in an attempt to appear indifferent.

“I think I’ve heard the name,” he said, turning to manually wipe off another table. “We’re probably distantly related somehow but I wouldn’t know.”

“No?” Rosmerta prodded. Harry hadn’t really revealed any details about his childhood and he knew the woman was curious.

He bit the inside of his cheek and bowed his head, breathing through his nose slowly. “My, uh, parents died when I was a baby,” he said softly so Rosmerta wouldn’t hear that his voice was strained with grief. “I never knew any of my family.” _Not any that cared, anyway._

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Rosmerta said, placing a hand on Harry’s arm.

He cringed backward and shrugged off the hand. “Don’t be sorry,” he said bitterly. “You didn’t have anything to do with it.” It was silent after that and Harry felt a little bad for being sharp with the woman. She hadn’t done anything wrong, she was just curious about her employee. She was just showing compassion. Harry ducked his head and scrubbed at a mark on the table, pushing himself manually to try and stave off the grief.

“I’ve noticed that you don’t tend to use your wand to wash up,” Rosmerta said lightly after a few minutes of silence. “Do you know any charms?”

“I do,” Harry said sheepishly, not meeting the woman’s eyes. “This was just how I was taught.”

It was silent again until Harry finished off with the last table. He threw his apron on a hook before saying a silent goodnight to Rosmerta, whose eyes didn’t leave his back as he headed toward his room.

Hedwig was dozing on her shelf and her soft hoots calmed him slightly.

Harry sighed and sat on his bed, holding his head in his hands. He swallowed thickly and let out a shuddering breath, not bothering to push up his Occlumency shields to shove away his emotions. His eyes burned and his nostrils flared as he tried to fight the tears. “Fuck,” he whispered, allowing the tears to fall. He hadn’t let his emotions overcome him from what happened a little over a week ago and now everything was rushing back. From the year or two he spent hunting horcruxes and learning Dark, Light, and Gray spells, from the numerous people he saw killed and tortured, from the family members who died at the hands of Death Eaters, to the final battle and the sight of everyone’s bodies littering the ground and bathing it in red.

The air crackled with magic as his emotions overcame him and Harry swiftly threw up some wards and charms so he wouldn’t destroy the room, or let Rosmerta hear anything. The furniture in the room shook and the curtains hanging over the window flapped with a sudden wind. Harry gasped a sob and he clenched his eyes shut, his fingers forming bruises on his knees.

Various images of family members and friends dying whirled through his mind. The Burrow and Grimmauld Place becoming targeted and eventually going down in an explosion of flames, some of the Weasleys and the Order dying. The attacks on Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, killing more of their number. Getting captured by the occasional Death Eater and being tortured before managing to escape before they could be taken to Voldemort.

“Jamie?” There was a slight knock on the door and Harry jumped. The floating furniture and books in the room clattered onto the ground in his surprise and the crackle of magic fizzled out. “James? Is everything alright?”

Harry scrubbed away the tears on his face, and with a quick flick of his wand, everything went back into place. He scourgified his face to clean up the tear residue and made his way to the door. He pulled it open and offered a sullen smile to Rosmerta. She was slightly pale and concern was written all over her face. Her hazel eyes darted around his face, easily taking notice of the red around his eyes.

“I felt some pretty heavy magic all the way in my rooms,” she said hesitantly. Harry blanched. She could actually _feel_ his magic? From her _rooms_? The ones that were _all the way across the building_? Harry’s mouth worked open and closed, his Occlumency barriers for once not doing anything.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Are you okay? Did I break anything?”

The woman’s face softened. “No, dear, nothing’s broken. It was just a little charge in the air. Now, are _you_ okay?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, his voice neutral with an edge to it that said that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Rosmerta looked at him a little longer before nodding.

“If you’re sure, sweetheart. Are you going to be up to working tomorrow? It’s Hogwarts weekend.” Harry mentally groaned. He had arrived after the last weekend, for which he was eternally grateful. And as much as he really didn’t want to spend the day working tomorrow, seeing the faces of dead people he knew, he couldn’t just abandon Rosmerta. The woman’s been providing him a room and free meals for the previous week and she didn’t even ask for anything in return, save for him helping out occasionally and doing a few errands.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry murmured. “Thank you for checking up on me, Rosie. Goodnight.” It was clearly a dismissal, but a kind one. Rosmerta nodded and said goodnight before heading back for her room.

After shutting the door and reinstating the silencing ward around the room, Harry let out a loud groan. Hedwig hooted loudly and flew over to him, nibbling his fingers in concern. “I’m sorry for waking your, girl,” he whispered, heading toward his bed. He sat down and pet her feathers softly, biting the inside of his cheek. “I shouldn’t have let my emotions out like that.”

Hedwig let out a sharp sound that Harry took as a “You think?”

Harry cracked a smile. “The next time I need to let loose I’ll go into the Forbidden Forest, okay? Maybe I'll blast a few trees or rocks or something.” Hedwig ruffled her feathers and nipped his fingers. “Alright, I’ll go to sleep now. Night, Hedwig.” Hedwig flew back up to her perch and Harry undressed before pulling on a pair of sleeping pants, not bothering with a shirt. He crawled into bed and clenched his eyes shut, cursing himself for taking the Dreamless Sleep potion the other day. He couldn’t take it more than twice a week because he had formed a pretty big addiction and dependency on it a year ago when he couldn’t sleep because of Voldemort’s visions.  
  


Harry let out a hoarse groan as Hedwig pecked his shoulder. He grimaced in pain and rolled over, pulling his blanket over his head, to block out the blinding winter sun that streamed through his windows. There was a screech before Hedwig bit the only place she could touch, his finger.

“Hedwig,” he growled low in his throat, squinting at the owl with a glare as his finger began to bleed. The snowy owl glared right back and Harry clenched his eyes shut at the pain in his forehead and throat. His hand fumbled over the nightstand for a vial of pain-reliever and when he didn’t touch anything, he squinted at it through one eye. There were no vials on the nightstand, further souring his mood.

 _Dammit,_ he muttered mentally since his throat ached. He slammed his hand against the bed in frustration and glared at the blood spots now on his comforter. He did a swift healing charm he learned from one of his new books and cleaned up the blood before sitting up and scrubbing his hands over his face. Hedwig let out a hoot beside him, though this one was fainter in her concern. Harry looked at her big eyes through his fingers and his scowl eased up slightly at her obvious concern. He sighed and his lips curled into a grimace as the air burned his throat. Mentally cursing himself and Voldemort, Harry pushed himself onto his feet and wobbled slightly.

 _Bloody motherfucking..._ he mentally grumbled as his legs shook beneath him. He shivered slightly as the sweat on his skin cooled and he summoned a set of clothes and his cloak heading straight for the bathroom, but not before opening the window for Hedwig to leave through. It had been closed yesterday since, for some reason, quite a few owls decided to chill in his room. There had been feathers _everywhere_ , so Harry and Hedwig made an agreement that if she woke him up in time for work, that he’d let her out almost immediately and would give her some of his breakfast.

Harry showered quickly and scowled at his reflection. He had made the mistake of using a drying charm on his hair and now it was sticking up everywhere. He ripped a brush through his abundance of curls and muttered under his breath, on the borderline of another breakdown. In his frustration, he tossed the brush at the mirror, breaking it and causing a shard to lodge itself in his arm. Harry gripped his hair and hauled up all of his Occlumency barriers while breathing deeply and slowly in an attempt to calm himself down.

First, he has a magical and emotional breakdown last night, then he ends up screaming himself hoarse due to oddly-vivid nightmares, and now he almost has _another_ breakdown because of his stupid ruddy _hair_.

 _What’s happening to me?_ he mentally grumbled, breathing in a deep breath before opening his eyes. The shards of the mirror were floating, and with a sigh, Harry waved his hand toward them, causing them to merge back into a mirror. Vaguely, as he healed the cut on his arm with a muttered "episkey" and wiped off the blood, he wondered how much bad luck he had just given himself. Surely not a full seven years since he put the mirror back together? Was that superstition even real in the wizarding world? Or was it a curse placed on some mirrors?

Thinking of cursed mirrors took his mind off of things calmed him somewhat. Harry finished brushing his hair before pulling it into his signature low ponytail and dressing in his clothes. He was more or less wearing all black today, save for his cloak and the worn white apron he’ll put on after going downstairs. Harry warily eyed the open window but decided to leave it. Hedwig might want to come rest here later instead of hanging out in the pub full of rowdy Hogwarts students. He groaned loudly at the thought before mentally cursing himself as his throat throbbed in pain.

 _Ugh, Hogsmeade weekend,_ he thought with a shudder. He was _so_ not ready to deal with a shit ton of teenagers despite being one himself.

Grimacing, Harry threw up a bunch of extra wards and minor hexes over his room before deciding to face the music. It was louder than normal when he left the room and Harry scowled. Hogsmeade weekend must have started already. A quick tempus told Harry that it was a few minutes till eleven and that he was late for work. He rushed down the stairs and swiftly ducked under a flying plate of food as he rushed to the back room to pull on his apron.

“Nice of you to join us!” Rosmerta said sarcastically as Harry tied the back of his apron.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized in a raspy voice, wincing.

Rosmerta stopped him just as he was about to leave the room, concern etched on her face. “Oh, dear, you sound sick,” she said, going to place a hand on Harry’s forehead. Harry cringed out of her reach and shook his head.

“M’not,” he muttered. “Just a dream.” Rosmerta’s blonde eyebrows disappeared behind her curly hair.

“What kind of dreams do you have that leave you with a ruined voice?” she asked, incredulous.

Harry just shrugged and slipped past her. “You want me to take orders or deliver?” he asked in an attempt to turn her attention away from his nightmares. He clenched his teeth at the burn in his throat.

“No,” Rosmerta said, standing in front of her and looking and sounding very Molly Weasley-esque. “You look like you’re about ready to fall over. I don’t need your help _that_ much, James Evans.” Harry winced at the use of his “full name.” Even though it wasn’t his actual name, the full use of it in that mothering sort of tone was enough to make him chagrined, even though he hadn’t done anything inherently wrong.

“But you need help,” Harry said pleadingly. “It’s just a sore throat.”

Rosmerta leveled a heavy scowl on him before sighing. “Head over to Pippin’s for a pain reliever and a Pepper-Up potion, then. I’m not letting you work otherwise. I’ll pay for it if I have to. And grab something to eat, as well.”

“I got it,” Harry said sharply before nodding, pulling off his apron and tossing it on the hook. He brooded and scowled at anyone who looked at him as he headed out of the filling pub. He was sure that it was going to be full by the time he got back, no matter the fact that it wasn’t even noon yet. Glare deepening at the sight of at least a hundred students wandering the main road, Harry skirted a large group of third years before heading over to the only apothecary in Hogsmeade; J. Pippin’s Potions. It wasn’t nearly up to the standards of Slug’s and Jiggers in Diagon Alley and it didn’t even measure up to the branch they had in Diagon Alley, either.

Harry didn’t bother talking to the clerk and tossed a vial each of Pepper-Up and mild pain reliever on the counter. He’ll go to Diagon Alley to pick up another set of potions ingredients to brew his own better working ones later.

“Th-That’ll be o-one Galleons and three S-Sickles,” the small teenage looking clerk said in a shaky voice, probably at the heavy scowl that was aimed at him. Harry just rolled his eyes and handed the guy the coins before storming out of the shop, his glare making various third and fourth years jump out of his way. When he stepped into the back room, he tipped the first potion in a sort of salute to Rosmerta, before promptly downing it and sighing relief as the pain in his throat promptly faded. He swiftly downed the second potion, which tasted vaguely of pepper, and as a rush of steam escaped his ears, his pounding headache ceased and warmth ran over him.

“Feeling better?” Rosmerta asked smugly as he slumped against the wall in relief. Harry sent her a scowl.

“No need to sound so smug,” he growled, his voice still a little raspy. The blonde woman just rolled her eyes and patted his shoulder condescendingly and handed him his apron and a breakfast sandwich.

“If you’re feeling so much better you might as well get to work,” she sniffed. “You _are_ half an hour late, after all.”

Harry dropped the scowl and rolled his eyes, tying the back of his apron. He took a large bite of his sandwich and finished chewing before speaking. “You never did answer my question,” he said as he followed her toward a stack of floating plates and glasses. “Am I ordering or delivering today?”

“Both. Take this set to the corner booth over there, would you?” Rosmerta instructed, gesturing to a group of students. “The rest of the booths need their orders taken.” Harry nodded and immediately got to work after finishing his sandwich and scourgifying his hands, handing out plates to familiar students. They looked to be third or fourth years so Harry wouldn’t have recognized them too much anyway, especially since they were in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Harry only really knew all of the students in Gryffindor and a few in Slytherin. He really only paid attention to the people close to his own year. They all looked at him warily as he placed down their plates and glasses of butterbeer and he rolled his eyes, grabbing a small notebook from his pocket and heading to one of the booths along the back wall. This one had teachers in it.

Before approaching them, Harry closed his eyes and pulled up all of his Occlumency shields. His eyes burned slightly and his throat tightened in grief. He swiftly pushed it away and bit his cheek as he approached them.

“Sorry for the wait, what would you—” Harry choked on his words as he met a very familiar pair of blue eyes. His own pair of false blue eyes (the exact same shade of the ones he was looking at) widened.

Sirius Black was gaping at him from where he sat next to a very familiar, yet unfamiliar, Remus Lupin.

“What the bloody hell?” Sirius spluttered, causing Remus to smack his arm.

“Sirius!” McGonagall gasped at the use of foul language. Flitwick was covering his mouth with his hand and his shoulders were suspiciously shaking. Harry was pretty sure he was muffling a bout of laughter.

“Uh, hullo,” Harry said softly, not taking his eyes of Sirius as his eyes burned again. His Occlumency shields were the only thing that kept his emotions mostly hidden. “What would you like to order?”

Harry’s eyes darted around Sirius’s and Remus’s faces as he wrote down everyone’s orders dutifully, his heart beating swiftly in his chest. Sirius and Remus looked so different from when he last saw them. Instead of pale waxy skin and gaunt cheeks and a haunted look in his eyes, Sirius was healthy, though still skinny, and his eyes held only a bit of grief in them. Sirius looked almost exactly like the pictures Harry had of him from when he was in Hogwarts. Remus looked the most different, however. His hair was no longer streaked with gray nor was it flat, and there were no bags or bruises beneath his eyes. Instead, his hair, was a golden-brown, much like his eyes, and despite the faint silver scars covering his face, he looked younger than Harry would have ever believed him to be.

Harry swiftly gathered their orders and after a few last glances at Sirius and Remus, he ducked his head and headed toward the next group of people impatiently waiting for their orders to be taken.  
  


Sirius stared as the boy who looked much like him left. The pain in the teen’s eyes when he had looked at him had stolen his breath and he was very curious as to who the teen was. The boy didn’t look older than sixteen or seventeen, and yet he wasn’t a Hogwarts student, that’s for sure. Instead, he was working here at the Three Broomsticks. He wondered why he hadn’t seen him before. He and Remus, and sometimes a few other professors, often came down here to drink off the stress that came with working with kids and teenagers all day. The last time he was here was only a few weeks ago, so where had this boy come from?

Rosmerta showing up with drinks and plates shook him out of his thoughts, though his eyes still followed the kid’s movements.

“Who’s he?” Sirius couldn’t help but ask as he nodded to the kid.

“Oh, that’s Jamie Evans,” Rosmerta said, looking over at the boy fondly as he dutifully wrote down a group of somewhat frightened student’s orders. Sirius wasn’t sure if the boy knew if his scowl was frightening almost all students there. He had to admit, the kid’s glare rivaled Snape’s, which was a challenge in and of itself.

“Jamie?” Remus asked curiously from beside him.

“James,” Rosmerta explained. “Told me to call him Jamie, though.” She shrugged and placed down their orders.

“Evans?” Minerva cut in.

Rosmerta smiled sadly at the group before turning to glance at James again. “I asked him about that, actually. He said he’s not sure of any relation to her. Said his parents died when he was a babe.”

“He looks like me,” Sirius blurted out, still staring at the kid.

“I thought so,” Rosmerta hummed. “I figure he must be a cousin of some sort. Of course, it could just be a coincidence. The hair and the eyes are the only real similarities, really, other than the sharp features. He’s small for a boy for his age and quite skinny, too. He’s fattened up a bit since coming here but he’s still so small.” Rosmerta shook her head sadly before rubbing her hands together. “Well, that’s your orders done. Is there anything else I can get ya’?”

After a chime of no’s, Rosmerta left them all to their thinking.

“He looks like he could be your son,” Filius squeaked as he began to drink his fruity drink.

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed at the insinuation.

“He said _looks_ like, Pads,” Remus deadpanned. “We both know that he couldn’t be your son.” The werewolf sent him a meaningful look and Sirius rolled his eyes, pressing his thigh against Remus’s with a small smile.

“Are you sure?” Minerva asked with a raised brow, no doubt remembering how many detentions Sirius got for fooling around after curfew.

Sirius coloured. “I was always careful,” he spluttered. “Tell her, Moony!”

Remus sent him an incredulous look. “Why would _I_ know that?” he asked, causing Minerva and Filius to snort into their drinks. Sirius settled on a quick glare before his eyes caught James’s from across the room. The boy looked pained, and when he met Sirius’s eyes, he looked away and continued writing down a table’s orders. Sirius’s brows creased in concern and confusion.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Sirius asked quietly, watching as the boy ducked his head and walked toward the kitchens swiftly.

“Why do you say that?” Minerva asked, taking a sip of her gillywater.

“He looked like he was in pain when he looked at me earlier,” he explained. “Plus all that stuff Rosie said earlier. You know, about being so small for a kid his age and his parents being dead and all? He _does_ look pretty skinny.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Filius asked. “If you’re so curious?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Remus said. “We don’t know the kid. How would you feel if someone pried into your life and started asking personal questions?”

“I’m just wondering what he’s doing out of school,” Minerva added in her two cents, nodding to the boy. James was carrying various plates and glasses in his arms with more hovering above his head. “He doesn’t look older than a sixth year though since Madam Rosmerta said he’s small for his age, he could pass for a seventh year. I know he’s not attending any classes at Hogwarts and we’ve never seen him before.”

“Maybe he graduated early from another school?” Filius suggested.

“Or he was homeschooled?” Sirius cut in, remembering the classes he had been forced to take during the summers before he moved in with James (Potter) before sixth year. “Reggie and I were homeschooled before going to Hogwarts, so was Prongs. Along with being taught wizarding politics, foreign languages, and some other pureblood mandatory bull- _stuff_ , our tutors also gave us a few introductory courses in Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions.”

Minerva looked over her glasses at him, no doubt remembering how he and James would talk during class without putting too much effort into their work. Sirius just offered a crooked smile in response before nodding to James (Evans, this time, perhaps he should think of him as Jamie like Rosie said he preferred to be called?). “Look, he’s obviously skilled in Charms. He’s levitating all of those dishes and glasses easily and he hasn’t even got his wand out.”

“Wandless magic!” Filius squeaked, leaning over the table to get a better look at the teen. “Oh, look! He’s not even gesturing where he wants the plates and glasses to go but they’re obviously going where he wants them to be! It took me a few years to be able to do that easily without a single gesture. You’ve got to have a good handle on your magic and how to use it to do that, you know!”

Minerva, Sirius, and Remus smiled at their easily excitable coworker.

“Did you feel his aura?” Remus asked suddenly, as he looked at James. The boy was scowling at a group of Slytherins who scowled right back at him. “It’s not something I’ve ever really felt before... It’s not exactly light but it’s not too dark either.”

“You think he’s Dark?” Sirius asked, sending a somewhat wary glance at the teen as he walked away from the group of Slytherins.

Remus shrugged. “Not necessarily, no,” Remus said, sending Sirius a look. “He could be Gray.” He knew that Sirius had grown up in one of the darkest families of wizarding Britain and had a skewed point-of-view on Dark magic, despite knowing quite of a few spells that could be classified as Dark. He _was_ the Defense Against the _Dark Arts_ teacher for a reason, after all.

“Or he could be Dark,” Minerva commented with thin lips. “His scowl is as bad as Severus’s!”

“Dark doesn’t necessarily mean evil!” Filius chided one of his oldest friends. “And Severus isn’t evil.”

Minerva scowled. “He is pretty annoying, though,” she muttered. Sirius smirked. The Slytherin house was doing quite well in Quidditch, and much to his (and most definitely Minerva’s) annoyance, had won the cup last year. Snape had been lording it over the older witch for months now, especially when Slytherin had won the match against Gryffindor three weeks ago. By _ten points_.

“Would you like another round of drinks?” a voice said, bringing Sirius’s attention away from the annoying Potions Master. James was standing in front of them with an impassive expression, though there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. _What’s he smirking for?_ Sirius wondered. The expression was different from the scowls and glares he had been carrying around for the past hour. Sirius tried to catch the boy’s eyes but he seemed to be studying the wood grain on the table.

“Oh, yes please!” Filius chimed. “Another cherry syrup and soda with ice for me!”

James quirked a smile at that and wrote it down, turning to look at Minerva with a perked brow. “Another gillywater please, Mr. Evans.” James didn’t look surprised at the use of his last name despite not giving it to them. _Probably overheard Rosie telling us,_ Sirius thought.

“Butterbeer for the two of us,” Remus said, gesturing toward him and Sirius. James didn’t remove his gaze from his small Muggle notebook and he nodded.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Minerva said, eyeing James warily. She no doubt felt the somewhat disturbing and Dark aura the boy held. It was faint, though, as if he was holding it in.

“Actually,” Sirius said, just as James turned to leave. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

Harry froze at Sirius’s voice and he swallowed, forcing himself to turn and meet the man’s eyes. “Yes?” he asked in a neutral tone, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying or doing something stupid. Like jump across the table and pull the man into a hug.

“Are we related?” Sirius asked bluntly.

Harry shrugged although his heart raced. He noticed Remus tilt his head in his direction and he pushed his emotions behind his Occlumency walls. Harry wasn’t sure if werewolves in their regular human forms could hear as well as when they were in their werewolf forms. And seeing as it wasn’t anywhere near the full moon, it made Harry wonder if Remus had hidden some of his more animalistic traits from him in fear of rejection. He hopes that Remus couldn't hear his heart race.

“I wouldn’t know,” Harry said in a somewhat hollow voice, ducking his head. “I never knew my parents as they were killed when I was barely one. I’ve never really been around family before, either, so I don’t really know who they were. There’s probably a chance we’re cousins, though. A lot of the pureblood families are inbred, you know.”

Half-truths were better used then full-on lies, Harry had been taught. He had discovered a self-updating book on wizarding families in Grimmauld Place’s library and it stated that Harry and Sirius were second cousins through his grandmother’s side. A shot of panic hit him. Would the self-updating book mention him? After thinking for a few seconds, Harry remembered that his Sirius didn’t care about blood relations or family, so this one probably wouldn’t check out the book. Not in the near future, at least.

There was a snort at the last comment and Harry’s face burned slightly as he studied the toes of his new boots. There was a smudge on the silver of his right boot. He frowned. He’ll have to polish that later. There was no reason to allow his new clothes to fall into disrepair like Dudley’s old hand-me-downs did. He planned on having these clothes for a while.

“I’m gonna go get your orders now,” Harry murmured after a few moments of awkward silence. As he walked away, he heard a hissed, “I told you not to ask personal questions!” from Remus that brought a quick smile to his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I'm trying to form a schedule where I post at least three to five times a month, around every five to ten days. Look out for the next chapter! Also, sorry that it's a little short!

**chapter four**

Harry glanced over at the booth where Sirius and Remus sat. McGonagall and Flitwick had left, leaving Remus and Sirius alone to talk. The relationship between them was different than what it had been in his world. They were closer to one another, and it wasn’t just how close they were sitting. In fact, Harry was pretty sure he caught the two of them snogging.

It hadn’t been too much of a surprise, to be honest. Remus had been too devastated after Sirius’s death in his world for them to be just friends.

They had been talking about him, Harry knew. He had caught Sirius’s glances at him and he had heard them talking when they thought that he wouldn’t be able to hear them. True, it was loud in the pub, but Harry had used a spell to increase his hearing range. It had worked quite well during his year or two before facing Voldemort; saving their lives (his and Ron’s and Hermione’s, that was) on numerous occasions. They had nearly been caught numerous times while out gathering supplies and before they learned to properly cast wards, and when they had been caught, it had helped them escape.

“Keep staring and they’re going to catch you looking at them,” Rosmerta said, making him jump. Harry mentally cursed himself for forgetting “Constant Vigilance!” and he turned to Rosmerta with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I just look so much like him,” Harry said, thankful that his throat was no longer hurting, and looking over at Sirius. He looked away when Sirius caught his eyes again. It seemed that Sirius was just as curious about Harry as Harry was about Sirius. Of course, Sirius was most likely curious as to who Harry was, why he appeared out of nowhere, and why he looked like him. Instead, Harry was curious about how this Sirius differed from his Sirius, and he was fighting off the grief about the Sirius from his world.

“Yes,” Rosmerta hummed, filling up two glasses of butterbeer. “He guessed that you two are probably cousins.”

Harry shrugged and grabbed the glasses.

“Where to?” he asked, looking around the nearly empty pub.

The curfew for the students had gone into effect around an hour or two ago at six instead of ten o’clock like it had been in his universe. Harry supposed that was due to the attacks that Voldemort (or more likely his Death Eaters) sometimes enacted on various wizarding communities. Apparently, Hogsmeade had been attacked a few months before he arrived and though it had been during Hogsmeade weekend, only the chaperones had been there at the time (along with a few older students), meaning they got ran off quickly.

Many had guessed that it had been some sort of sick training run for new Death Eater recruits. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been run off so easily.

“The two professors,” Rosmerta said with a smirk, nodding to Sirius and Remus, “and then you’re done for the day.”

Harry mentally groaned. All of his curiosity about them was now biting him in the arse.

Sirius looked up from where he was looking at Remus sketch something on a napkin as he approached. Harry ducked his head and gave them their butterbeer before attempting a hasty retreat.

“James!” Sirius said, causing Harry to freeze and mentally curse. Harry turned around with a slight smile.

“Yes?”

“When do you get off? I’d like to have a quick chat with you about something.” Sirius and Harry both ignored the elbow Remus jabbed into Sirius’s side.

“Er...”

“He’s off now!” Rosmerta called, cutting off the excuse Harry was about to give. Harry whirled around and sent her a glare. She merely smiled and made a shooing gesture.

“Great!” Sirius said, clapping his hands together. Remus, again, elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow, Moony!”

“You don’t have to sit with us, James,” Remus kindly said, ignoring Sirius. “He’s being a prat. You’ve been working since early this morning and you probably just want some peace and quiet.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he looked between the both of them. Remus’s accepting gaze, telling him that it was okay if he wanted to leave, and Sirius’s silently begging one.

Harry, for the first time that day, did not remove his eyes from his godfather’s. The look in his eyes was so _different_ than the one his Sirius had. His eyes weren’t nearly as haunted, probably because he hadn’t spent years locked up in Azkaban while being mentally tortured, though they still had a shadow of grief in them.

“I’m leaving the minute you ask something too personal,” Harry said seriously, causing Sirius to nod his head wildly.

“Are you sure?” Remus asked with a slight frown. “You don’t have to.”

Harry just shrugged and looked down as he toed the floor. “I can’t deny that I haven’t been looking over here ever since I served you earlier. I’m... curious, I guess, about you.” He sent a swift glance to Sirius, and then Remus, and then shrugged again. “Let me hang up my apron and then I’ll join you, kay?”

A nod from the two of them and Harry made his way to the backroom to hang up his apron. _Why the hell did you agree?_ he mentally berated himself.

 _The reason y_ _ou came here_ _was_ _to see your family again!_ a second voice in his mind said.

 _It’s dangerous!_ the first voice said.

 _They can help you,_ the second said.

 _Or die trying,_ the first voice fought back.

 _It’s Sirius and Remus!_ the second voice said. _They know how to take care of themselves._ _Hell, t_ _hey probably know more than the first ones did._

“Ugh!” Harry grunted, tugging at his hair. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to gather himself. His magic, which had been stirring, calmed down somewhat. Harry focused on his breathing and built up his Occlumency walls again. He’d need them if he was going to have a conversation with Sirius and Remus.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes and pulled off his apron, hanging it up on a hook. He tugged the ponytail holder out of his hair because a headache was building and ran his fingers through his hair. After checking his walls for a second time, he went out to the bar and poured himself a pint of butterbeer, spiking it with a few shots of firewhisky.

He had a feeling that he might need it.

Rosmerta, who was wiping down the counter, lifted an eyebrow at his actions. Harry wasn’t known to drink anything stronger than a few pints of butterbeer when he hung out with the locals, so her curiosity made sense. He shrugged at her, grabbed his glass, and made his way over to an eager-looking Sirius and a resigned Remus.

“What’d you put into your butterbeer?” Sirius asked as soon as he sat down his glass. He was looking at the now amber-tinted liquid that was usually golden in curiousity.

“Firewhisky,” Harry replied, waving his hand and casting a quick muffliato. Remus, catching the movement, raised a brow. Harry shrugged. “Silencing charm.” Remus nodded and took a sip of his un-spiked drink.

“Ooh, firewhisky and butterbeer?” Sirius asked with a grin. The genuine smile from his godfather was infectious, and moments later, Harry found the corners of his lips quirking up in one of the first genuine smiles he’d had in a few weeks.

Harry took a sip of his drink and shrugged. “Tastes good.” Sirius was looking at it curiously and Harry had a feeling that the man was going to try spiking his own drinks sooner or later. Butterbeer may have some alcohol in it, but even ten glasses weren’t enough to get you more than a buzz. Harry only hoped that none of the younger years ended up drunk because their butterbeers were spiked.

Harry mentally snorted. _That would be something to see,_ he thought, remembering when Ron got stupid drunk during one of the parties after a won Quidditch match and ended up nearly stripping in front of everyone.

“Okay,” Sirius said after a few seconds. “I know you said earlier that you’re not sure, but just to be clear, you’re _not_ my illegitimate son, right?”

“I’m not,” Harry replied, smiling wryly. _No matter how much I wished you were._

Harry didn’t feel like he was replacing his parents with Sirius. They were dead and Sirius wasn’t. And they made the man his god _father_ for a reason, didn’t they? To take care of him when they couldn’t? Probably sensing that the conversation was going into the “too personal” category, Remus changed the subject, settling on something (hopefully) neutral.

“So, Madam Rosmerta said your name was James?”

Harry nodded. “James, or Jamie, Evans.”

"'Jamie'?" Sirius asked.

“Some friends called me that,” Harry said, lying through his teeth easily with a shrug. “I prefer to be called that, by the way.” _Because James was my father and I’m not him._

Hedwig landed on the table then and Harry smiled at her. “Hey, girl, got tired sitting alone?” Hedwig hooted and nibbled Harry’s fingers affectionately when he when to scratch her wing joint. She hooted softly when he scratched the itchy area and Harry summoned a piece of ham from the kitchen to give to her.

“Jamie!” Rosmerta said loudly, making Harry, Sirius, and Remus jump. “What did I say about summoning food from the kitchen?”

“Er... not to do it while there are customers around?” Harry asked loudly, meeting the woman’s glare from across the room with an innocent smile. Rosmerta’s scowl deepened. “Oh, come on, Rosie! There’s barely anyone here!” Rosmerta only managed to hold her glare for a few more moments before she shook her head in exasperation.

“If you’re going to summon some food, then do it for yourself, Jamie,” Rosmerta said. “You haven’t had a thing other than that sandwich this morning.” Harry raised a hand with a mischievous grin, just about to do that, before Rosmerta said, “No! I’ll get you something. Stay where you are and _don’t_ summon anything from the kitchen!”

“Thanks, Rosie!” Harry called with a grin, and when she entered the kitchen, he summoned a small bottle of firewhisky from the bar.

Remus and Sirius were staring at him. “What? She didn’t say anything about summoning from the _bar_ ,” Harry defended himself. “And it’s not like I’m not going to pay her.”

A large grin crawled across Sirius’s face before he let out a loud bark of laughter, startling Hedwig, who squawked and landed on Harry’s shoulder, and a few of the remaining few patrons in the pub. Remus also had a smile on his face and he was shaking his head.

“What?” Harry demanded.

“We’re definitely related!” Sirius said, grinning madly.

The grin stole Harry’s breath. This was one of the smiles he had rarely seen from his Sirius. It was only when Harry did something that reminded him of James and their days back in Hogwarts and he reminisced about it. When he had been genuinely happy despite everything that had happened to him. Despite being locked inside a house that was just as similar to a prison of poor memories as Azkaban had been. Harry’s expression twitched at the sad memories for a moment before he forced a smile on his face.

 _No need to dwell on the past,_ he told himself. _This Sirius didn’t spend over a decade in Azkaban nor is he imprisoned in his mother’s old house._

If either Sirius or Remus noticed the twitch in his expression, they chose not to mention it.

“Oh?” Harry said to Sirius’s statement. “How so?”

“You easily found a way around the rules,” Remus said with a small smile, shaking his head. “And you fended off Rosmerta, and called her ‘Rosie’. Only Sirius calls her that.” Harry shrugged at that one. Rosmerta had told him to call her that and so he did.

“So, you guys are professors at Hogwarts?” Harry asked, subtly (or not so subtly if Remus’s raised brow was anything to by) turning the attention away from himself.

“Yep!” Sirius said cheerily, taking a sip of his now spiked butterbeer and bouncing in his seat. Harry eyed the man warily. This was around the fifth glass the man had within the previous few hours, so he probably had a buzz, but now he was adding more alcohol to the drink. He hoped Sirius wasn’t a dangerous drunk (and by that he meant pranks, stupidity, or otherwise because Harry didn’t think Sirius was a violent drunk like Uncle Vernon had been).

“For Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Remus explained when it became clear Sirius wasn’t going to expand on his comment. Harry smiled. The two of them were perfect for the rule, though he hoped this Sirius didn’t play with his food as the previous one had.

“For how long?” Harry asked, tilting his head to the side. It looked like this wasn’t the first year they had been teaching but he could be wrong.

“Around fifteen years,” Remus said. Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“I thought there was a curse on the post?” Harry asked, frowning.

“It’s been removed,” Sirius said, shrugging.

Harry filed that information to review later. He knew that the Defense position had been cursed by Voldemort. It had been placed on Ravenclaw’s diadem last time. That had been the reason why the diadem had been in Hogwarts. It had to be within proximity of the thing it was cursing; in this case, it was the professors.

“Have you always wanted to be a teacher?” Harry asked curiously as he looked between Remus and Sirius. He had always wondered that if there hadn’t been a curse on the Defense position and his lycanthropy hadn’t been discovered, if Remus would have liked to continue teaching. He seemed to like teaching but he wasn’t sure about this Remus, though.

“I was an Auror for a few years,” Sirius said, leaning back. “I’ve always wanted to be one, especially when the war picked up…”

“I didn’t really know what I wanted to do while in school,” Remus cut in as Sirius’s words and expression turned sad. “I’ve always wanted to work with children, though. And get a job teaching, even if it’s co-teaching, at Hogwarts…” He shook his head. “It was a dream come true.”

Harry’s eyes trailed over the silver scars on Remus’s somewhat youthful face. He didn’t look worn down and stressed. He looked happy. Harry felt, that for the first time, he was understanding Remus. He’d known that as a werewolf, he hadn’t been unable to get many jobs and he often found himself struggling. But this Remus had been given a chance. He had one of the best jobs there were.

“What about you?” Sirius asked. “What do you do for a living? What are your future plans?”

 _Kill Voldemort,_ Harry thought wryly.

Harry leaned back against the booth seat and took a sip of his drink, relishing in the mild burn the firewhisky added to it.

“Currently, I’m working here, obviously,” he said with a crooked smile. He then shrugged. “I’m not sure what I plan to do in the future, though. I’m good at Defense, was top of my class. I’ve kinda always wanted to be an Auror, too, though I’m not sure about that now. I was pushed in that direction by my professors and peers. I’ve seen and dealt with so much, though…”

Harry stared unseeingly wall beside Sirius and Remus as memories of what he’s been through whirled through his mind. Of what he’d done. After a few moments, he shook his head. He mentally cursed himself as he spotted Sirius’s and Remus’s concerned and curious expressions.

He took a few gulps of his butterbeer and suddenly wished he’s spiked it with more firewhisky, so he reached out to the amber liquid and dumped a quarter of the bottle in his half-empty glass. He took another sip before continuing with a smile towards Remus.

“I like teaching though,” he said, voice soft as he smiled and remembered the DA. The DA had been one of the best decisions in his life. Sure, it had caused so much pain and a lot of bad had happened because of it being hidden from Umbridge and the toad getting suspicious, but Harry had loved teaching his classmates.

“I ran a Defense club at my old school,” Harry said, telling a sort of half-truth. Was it a half-truth if Hogwarts was no longer his school? Because this Hogwarts wasn’t his? “I was the main teacher and it was so rewarding when one of my classmates mastered a spell.” He grinned as he remembered Neville finally mastering expelliarmus and when he managed to cast his first corporeal Patronus.

“It was really fun showing off my dueling skills, too,” he added, much to Sirius’s and Remus’s amusement.

“Not out to steal our jobs, are you, Jamie?” Sirius teased after a short bark of laughter.

Harry’s smile faltered a bit and he shook his head. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to teach,” he said softly. “I’ve got…” He bit the inside of his cheek as he trailed off.

“What sort of things did you teach them?” Remus asked, probably assuming that his inability to teach was similar to his reason for struggling for jobs before being offered a post at Hogwarts. Harry shot him a thankful smile and began to explain the sorts of things he taught the DA. He left out the Patronus charms, though, and soon the three of them began to discuss teaching techniques.

“I didn’t really go over theory,” Harry was explaining. “I’ve never really been a fan of just sitting and reading about spells when I could just _do_ _t_ _hem_ instead.” His lips curled in disgust as he remembered Umbridge’s stupidity and inability to teach kids to protect themselves because of her fear. “Besides, our Defence _professor_ ,” he said the word with loathing clear in his voice, “only went over theory so we already knew most of it.”

“The theory’s fascinating, though!” Remus exclaimed, ignoring Harry’s reaction to his old Defense teacher as it was obviously something he didn’t want to discuss, which Harry was thankful for. “Many wand movements are actually you tracing runes in the air! That’s what gives the spells focus. Runes are part of the old language of magic. They have more of a connection with your magical core. That’s why when you start learning wandless magic in seventh year you are given an introduction to runes and you practice tracing them.”

Harry blinked at Remus. He hadn’t actually known that since he never went to his seventh year at Hogwarts.

“I didn’t know that about runes,” Harry admitted. “Was that why it was so difficult to learn wandless magic?” he mused aloud. Remus’s and Sirius’s mouths dropped open. “What?”

“You learned wandless magic _without_ knowing any of the theory?” Remus asked, bewildered. Harry nodded sheepishly. His mind was a little fuzzy from all the alcohol so he didn’t really understand why his wandless abilities were so shocking to the man.

“Did—Did your classes not mention any of this?” Sirius spluttered, equally as baffled as Remus.

Harry shrugged. “I wouldn’t know,” he said, and then continued rather stupidly, “I didn’t attend my seventh year at school.”

It was silent for a moment and Harry straightened up as he realized what he’d just said. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, mentally cursing himself. He had gotten comfortable with Remus and Sirius and had forgotten that he only technically met them today and wasn’t supposed to tell them the deeper stuff. He was spilling things like Hagrid was known to do.

 _Damn it_ , he thought, clenching his hand.

“You didn’t finish your schooling?” Remus asked in shock, sounding soberer than he had been previously. Harry, opening his eyes and biting the inside of his cheek, nodded warily.

“How come?” Sirius asked, a little shocked but not seeming to find an issue that he hadn’t graduated.

Licking his lips nervously, Harry tapped the side of his nearly empty pint of butterbeer.

“My school was destroyed a few months ago,” he said quietly, closing his eyes as images of the destroyed castle flickered through his mind. The blown-up walls, the fire-charred roofs, the blood that stained the snow of the outside lawn.

“What school?” Sirius asked. “I don’t remember seeing anything in the papers about a school being attacked.”

“It was a private school,” Harry said slowly, the vague half-truth falling from his lips hesitantly. “I don’t think anyone knew about it. It was rather hidden. The Death Eaters wanted something and everyone paid the price.” His voice turned cold on the last few words as he scowled at his drink. He vanished the contents and used a weak aguamenti to fill the glass with water. He gulped down half of the glass in an attempt to make himself sober so as to not spill more things about his past.

It was silent for a few moments before Harry gulped down the rest of his water and grabbed the empty bottle of firewhisky. “I’m sorry,” Harry said, casting a quick tempus to tell the time, “but it’s rather late and I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Harry left them and took his glass and the bottle to the bar, where Rosmerta was cleaning up and looking at him with concern.

“Here.” Harry pulled a few Galleons out of his purse to pay for the firewhisky and placed them on the bar, bowing his head. “Goodnight, Rosie,” he said softly, gesturing for Hedwig to follow him upstairs.

He felt Remus’s, Sirius’s, and Rosmerta’s eyes on his back before he went out of view.

“Merlin, I’m so stupid,” Harry muttered, running a hand through the tangles in his hair. He tugged at the roots as he pushed his door open with wandless magic, closing it behind him in the same way. Hedwig flew up to her shelf and watch him with concerned amber eyes.

“Why the hell couldn’t I _shut up_?” Harry continued as he paced back and forth in front of his bed. He unclasped his cloak and tossed it on the bed, breathing deeply as he tried to get a hold of his emotions. It seemed that being inebriated was causing his Occlumency walls to slip.

“I don’t _know_ them!”

Harry tugged at his hair as his face turned into a snarl as his eyes began to burn and his throat tightened. He scrubbed his face with his hands and let out a shuddering breath.

“Damn it!” he cursed as some of the things on his shelves rattled. _What the hell is up with my magic?_ Harry asked himself silently as he clenched his hands to the point his nails dug into his palms. The pain took his attention away from his grief and his anger and his emotional pain.

He dug his fingernails in further as he continued to breathe slowly. As tears slid down his cheeks, Harry didn’t bother wiping his eyes. He just focused on the pain and his breathing, and slowly, his magic was pushed back into a tight ball in his core, causing everything to stop rattling.

Opening his eyes, Harry was relieved to see that nothing fell. _I hope Rosmerta didn’t feel my magic again,_ Harry thought.

Scrubbing his face again, Harry headed into the bathroom to do his business, wipe his face off, and undress for bed. He was feeling much calmer as he tugged on a pair of sweatpants and he placed his cloak on his desk chair. He felt a little bad about throwing it earlier and he smoothed his thumb over the snake clasp, feeling relaxed as he stared into the emerald serpent eyes that seemed to glint back at him.

Hedwig hooted and Harry glanced up at her. He offered his worried familiar a sheepish smile.

“I’m okay now,” he promised.

The owl ruffled her wings and Harry felt a faint sense of doubt from their bond, which had been growing for a while now. The first time he had felt a foreign emotion, he had been worried that he somehow had a connection with Voldemort again, but it had just been Hedwig’s annoyance of being denied Harry’s last piece of bacon.

It had shocked the hell out of him before he remembered, after reading a book about Familiar Bonds, that you could sometimes feel your familiar’s emotions.

After a few seconds at staring into his earnest eyes, Hedwig hooted again and tucked her head under her wing. Harry smiled at her and crawled into bed, renewing the regular spells and wards on his door, and also extinguishing the candles in the room.

Exhausted from the long and tiring day, as well as from the previous night’s nightmares, Harry almost immediately fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

**chapter five**

Harry looked up from his book curiously as an owl landed on the desk in front of him. He had left his room window open for Hedwig to come and go because he had work off today. The brown owl hooted and held its leg up, showing him a yellowed parchment letter. Raising an eyebrow at the owl, Harry waved a hand toward the letter to make sure that there were no hexes or anything.

The owl hooted indignantly at the motion and ruffled its feathers. There were no hexes or any charms on the letter, and wondering who it was from, Harry took it. Flipping it from the front, which simply said his false name, he blinked at the wax crest on the back.

It was the Hogwarts crest.

“What?” said Harry, shocked, looking from the envelope to the owl. The owl merely stared at him with large golden eyes and hooted. “You’re waiting for a response, then?” Again, the owl hooted before beginning to preen its feathers.

Harry switched back to the front and inhaled sharply as he took in the familiar loopy writing that he had bypassed earlier. He would know that writing anywhere. It was Dumbledore’s.

Swiftly, Harry flipped open the letter. He wondered what Dumbledore wanted with him and how he even knew of him. _Did Remus_ _or_ _Sirius say something?_ he asked himself. _Or_ _McGonagall and Flitwick?_

Harry had overheard McGonagall’s words about him being school-aged and out of school. But surely she wouldn’t say anything to the Headmaster of Hogwarts without knowing anything, right? Surely not. Harry didn’t really know Flitwick that well but Harry suspected that he wouldn’t go to Dumbledore about a kid working at a pub and inn. That left Sirius and Remus, of which Harry remembered sharing the fact that he hadn’t finished his schooling.

Groaning, he resisted the urge to slam his head against the desk. He knew that his loose lips were going to come back and bite him in the arse.

The owl perching on his desk ruffled its feathers, reminding Harry that it was waiting for a reply. Harry absentmindedly conjured a bowl of water for the owl and summoned an owl treat and unfolded the letter from the envelope.

  
  


_Dear Mr. Evans_ , it said at the top in a swirling mix of print and cursive in fuchsia coloured ink.

_Professors Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, of whom I was informed you spoke with, came to me with concerns about your schooling. They revealed to me that your previous school had been attacked by a group of Death Eaters which has prevented you from receiving your last year of education._

_While I have not heard of such an attack, I send my condolences. Due to these circumstances, I am giving you an invitation to speak with me about attending classes here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Please send back a time and date for this meeting, for which I hope you do not mind will take place in my office at Hogwarts. And while I do not require a meeting if you do not wish to attend, I implore you to think this over._

_All students should be given the chance to finish their schooling._

_Albus Dumbledore_

  
  


Harry sat back in his chair and blinked at the letter. So, it _had_ been Sirius and Remus to bring up his schooling then. He wasn’t sure what to feel about them but couldn’t help the sting of betrayal that crept up inside of him. He knew, of course, that this Sirius and Remus didn’t know him, but it still hurt that they would run to Dumbledore with the information he gave them.

At the same time, however, he felt a fondness for them. Even barely knowing him, they appeared to worry for him (or at least a kid who hadn’t finished their schooling yet). They wanted him to finish his schooling because he said that his previous school was attacked and that he didn’t finish his seventh year.

Harry wasn’t sure what he should do about that. Should he attend Hogwarts? He didn’t really want to give up the freedom he had here in Hogsmeade nor did he want to stop working with Rosmerta. He didn’t need the money he got working here, he had plenty, but Rosmerta was kind and she forced him to go to the apothecary or go to bed when he was ill and she needed so much help during the weekends…

Hoot. The brown owl, which was still here, ruffled its feathers in annoyance.

“You’re still waiting for a reply, then?” Harry asked with a raised brow. The owl merely looked at him with its large gold eyes and hooted.

Summoning a biro, Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and penned a short reply.

  
  


_Headmaster Dumbledore,_ he said.

_I am interested in your offer of attending classes at Hogwarts. Would tomorrow at half-past eleven be a decent time?_

_James Evans_

  
  


Harry attached the letter to the owl’s leg, watched as it flew out the window, and promptly dropped his head onto the desk.

“What did I just agree to?” Harry asked himself aloud. Silence was his answer.

  
  


Harry rifled through his clothes swiftly, looking for something proper to wear. He wanted to make a good impression on Dumbledore. Yesterday had come and gone and now he was almost late, only having about half an hour to dress and head up to the castle. He didn’t know why he wanted to dress nicely, perhaps it was the faint reminder in the back of his head that he was the heir to two of the Founders, so he wasn’t about to ignore his instincts.

Running his hand over the soft silky fabric of a shirt, Harry decided to forgo the usual dress-like garment of traditional robes that were worn over trousers and shirts, instead deciding on just a pair of trousers and a shirt with Slytherin’s cloak over top.

Making up his mind, Harry pulled on a pair of trousers and a button-down shirt. The outfit he chose wasn’t too extravagant, simply sitting on the edge of semi-formal and formal. The trousers were a simple pair of black slacks and the button-down he had on was a soft champagne gold that went well with the silver and green of his cloak. The fabrics were more high-end, proving to be layered silk and magically weaved wool, but were simple in design, unlike the usual pureblood regalia.

Hopefully, to anyone who saw him, they wouldn’t think him as some rich pureblood snob.

Harry pulled on his silver-toed boots and put his hair in a simple ponytail with some loosely curled fringe hanging down. He had learned his lesson with trying to tame the curls with a brush. It appeared easier to simply leave them be and brush them right after showering, letting them dry normally.

He put on his dragonskin backpack before pulling his cloak over him, fastening the silver serpent clasp over the top of his sternum.

Looking in the mirror, Harry was not too shy to admit that he looked good.

“Are you coming with me, girl?” asked Harry, turning to Hedwig who was perched on his bed frame looking at him with her large amber eyes. Hedwig answered by flying up to his outstretched arm. Harry smiled warmly at her and pet her plumage as he headed outside of his room, absentmindedly casting all of the locking charms and anti-thief hexes wandlessly.

As he headed out the door, he caught Rosmerta’s eye.

“Where are you going all dressed up?” she asked, looking him over with an appraising glance.

Harry resisted the urge to blush and said with a sardonic grin, “It seems that Professor Dumbledore is opening his school to dropouts.”

Rosmerta, who had been privy to the (false) details of his coming to Hogsmeade, snorted. “I’d hardly say that not being able to go to school because it was attacked makes you a dropout,” she said with a raised brow, daring him to say otherwise. Harry, who knew that he actually _was_ a dropout (for a worthy cause, he reminded himself), simply shrugged.

“And that still doesn’t explain why you’re all gussied up,” Rosmerta added after a few moments.

“Is it so bad that I want to make a good impression on the Headmaster?” he asked, not quite pouting but close enough.

“I’m sure the Headmaster wouldn’t care if you were dressed in your work uniform let alone casual clothes,” Rosmerta said with a headshake. Again, Harry shrugged.

“I’m going to make a good impression, right, though? This is sorta like an interview and don’t you dress up for those usually?” Harry really didn’t know how interviews worked but he suspected that it was something like that. He hadn’t really had an interview with Rosmerta when he started working here. The blonde simply rolled her eyes and assured him that, yes, he will make quite the impression on Dumbledore.

Assuring Rosmerta that he’d be back sometime later just in case she needed him (she harrumphed and told him that no, she wouldn’t need him and even if she did, she’d look elsewhere for help since it was his day off) and headed outside. Stamping down a shiver as a current of wind burst past him, Harry spelled his clothes and cloak with a warming charm and pulled up the hood to his cloak.

Hedwig pushed off his forearm to fly above him as he started the trek up to the castle grounds.

Any lingering fatigue from his lie-in was chased away swiftly due to the cold wind. It wasn’t snowing yet though Harry could tell that it would soon. As it was now, his surroundings were covered in a layer of snow from the previous snowfall a few days ago. The trail to Hogwarts was conveniently clear from the previous weekend, the snow on the trail packed down from hundreds of students and faculty making their rounds of the wizarding village.

The gates to the school ominously opened as he approached them, making Harry lift a brow at them. The gates had never done that before, at least from what he was aware of, and he had a feeling that it had to do with his somewhat new status as a Hogwarts Four heir.

As he passed through the gate, he shivered. This wasn’t due to the cold air, however. In fact, he could barely feel the cold now. He felt warm, and comforted, and happy, and… _at home_. He stopped and closed his eyes, simply taking in the emotions that Hogwarts invoked in him.

The castle had always felt like home. It _had_ been home. It was the best home he had ever had, what with his life at Privet Drive being what it was. It was even better than the Burrow, the house that had served as an in-between to Privet Drive and Hogwarts for most of his time at school. Hogwarts, despite the dangers he had faced there every single year, despite the hate and loathing that those inside the wall had often inflicted on him, was home.

And even now, despite never setting foot in this Hogwarts, he was at home.

The warm feeling was a little new, though. Harry could feel the magic of Hogwarts reaching out to him, reaching out to one of its living heirs. He wondered how many others had felt this, how many others had been in his position, calling the castle home and being greeted by it.

Harry stumbled in surprise as Hedwig landed roughly on his shoulder, no doubt deliberately shaking him out of whatever funk he had just been in.

“Thank you,” Harry murmured to the owl somewhat sheepishly, realizing that she had, in her own way, just warned him that he was going to be late. He checked the time with a wave of his hand and let out a litany of colourful swears Sirius inadvertently taught him. He didn’t worry about anyone hearing him since anyone out for Herbology was in the greenhouses which were on the opposite side of the grounds.

He passed by the Quidditch pitch a little wistfully and wondered if he could chance a quick fly around even if he doesn’t agree to take up Dumbledore’s offer of classes.

Most of yesterday’s time had seen Harry thinking over Dumbledore’s offer. Should he give up the freedom he now had and join Hogwarts as a full-time student? Was there a possibility that he could still keep his independence? Would he be sorted privately or in front of everyone? Would he be put in Slytherin, the house the Sorting Hat had originally wanted to put him in? The house that he had begun to embrace within the previous year?

What about Voldemort? Surely attacks were to happen, and as he had heard, would happen in Hogsmeade. He now had friends in the small village and he didn’t want to leave them vulnerable.

There was also the fact that Harry was unaware of which classes to take. Potions? Defense Against the Dark Arts? Charms? He was more than capable of all courses, having taught himself (and others) offensive and defensive magic, as well as brewing more than just your basic and simple healing potions. There were also the fun courses or the courses that complemented those three; Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Transfiguration (while not quite as good as making animated figures as Dumbledore, he had had enough fun messing around with animated figures when he and the others needed a good laugh). Harry was good at Herbology practicals, and now that he knew how most ingredients interacted in potions, he found the theory quite intriguing. Care of Magical Creatures was simply fun although Harry was unaware if Hagrid taught that class at all in this world.

And then there were the somewhat useless courses he wasn’t interested in anymore; History of Magic, Divination, and Astronomy, and the classes that he had studied up on while on the run since they were useful; Arithmancy and Ancient Runes for warding, and Spellcrafting and Magical Theory for handy spells similar to Snape’s muffliato.

The more Harry thought about which classes to take and which not to, the more conflicted he got about whether or not to turn down Dumbledore’s offer. He shook his head and looked up, realizing that he was approaching the front door to the castle. He mentally cursed himself for forgetting “Constant Vigilance!” because he had first-hand experience that the wards at Hogwarts could be bypassed with a little work.

Just as he stepped up to the one door, it was pushed open. Harry stepped back and inhaled sharply as he came face to face with one of his best friends. _Not your best friend!_ he mentally yelled at himself as he pulled himself behind his Occlumency walls. His throat went tight with grief and he swallowed, meeting the eyes of this world’s Hermione Granger.

“Oh, hello,” Hermione said, stepping back to allow Harry in. Harry stepped through the door and looked at Hermione.

“Good morning,” Harry managed to say past the lump in his throat.

“Are you James Evans?” Hermione questioned, squinting her eyes at him. Harry blinked and wondered why she was glaring at him before realizing that he was still wearing the hood of his cloak and that it was obstructing the view of his face. He pulled it back and nodded at Hermione, his eyes trailing over her.

She looked exactly like his Hermione, bushy hair and all. The only things that stood out, however, was the large shiny Head Girl badge that was pinned to her school robes and the fact that those school robes were bronze and blue rather than scarlet and gold. The Ravenclaw bit was not a surprise as Hermione had told Harry that she had argued with the Sorting Hat on being put into Gryffindor rather than the house of intelligence, though it made him wonder what made Hermione be put in Ravenclaw. He had to struggle to school his face, though, as he saw the Head Girl badge. His Hermione had had to give up her duties as Head Girl when they went looking for Horcruxes. He also noticed that she didn’t have buck teeth and wondered if she was hexed in this world as well or if her parents finally consented to have her teeth fixed by magical or Muggle means.

Hermione blinked at him a few times after he pulled his hood down. He simply raised a brow at her, knowing that she was most likely wondering why and how he looked a lot like her Defence professor.

“Was there something you were supposed to do?” Harry asked Hermione, causing her mouth to open and close a few times before she managed to reattach her brain to her vocal cords.

“Oh, right!” she exclaimed. “Professor Dumbledore asked me to wait outside for you to escort you to his office! He’s expecting you soon though he didn’t really tell me why you needed an escort. Most people he meets with come straight through the Floo, you know.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with a smile as Hedwig continued to sit on his shoulders. He looked around the castle as Hermione led him up the staircase and through various corridors. It looked exactly as it had before the battle and Harry had to fight down his emotions again. He mentally shook himself. He shouldn’t have this many problems controlling his emotions, hasn’t had any problems since learning Occlumency. At least none of the armor or the paintings were shaking.

“I’m Hermione Granger, by the way,” said Hermione. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before but you look around my age. Are you a recent graduate? I think I would have remembered someone who looks like my Defence professor. You _do_ look awfully like him, you know. Do you know of a Sirius Black? You could be related to him. What are you here to discuss with the Headmaster, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Harry didn’t bat an eye at Hermione’s rambling, having been used to it for around six years now. He bit down an amused chuckle. It appeared that this Hermione was just as inquisitive as his Hermione. Perhaps even more so if the personal questions were anything to go by.

“I’m not a recent graduate,” Harry replied truthfully before effortlessly answering but side-stepping her questions. “We’re probably around the same age seeing as you’re in seventh year—the badge makes it obvious, I’ve done my reading—and I’ve just met Professor Black recently. I do look a lot like him, so there’s a possible relation there. And I’m meeting with Professor Dumbledore about possibly attending classes here.”

Harry didn’t see any harm in telling Hermione any of this information. None of it could possibly reveal his true identity and not only what he was saying was true, but it was information that anyone could get if they asked the right person. Telling Hermione that he may be attending classes here, though, could perhaps make it difficult to reject Dumbledore depending on the outcome of their meeting.

“Are you really?” said Hermione curiously. “It’s the middle of term, you know. You’d have a lot of catching up to do. And we’ve got exams coming up soon.”

Harry couldn’t help it, he chuckled. This was just so damn _Hermione_ that he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” demanded Hermione. Harry easily stifled the next bout of laughter that wanted to leave him.

“You are _s_ _uch_ a Ravenclaw,” he said simply. Hermione huffed and stopped beside a gargoyle, surprising Harry. While he had kept an eye on his surroundings from his earlier surprise, he hadn’t really been looking at where he was going.

“Mint humbug,” Hermione told the gargoyle, causing Harry to snort. Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry as the gargoyle jumped out of the way.

“Thank you,” he said with a grin as Hermione visibly mentally debated with herself. _She’s probably wondering whether to leave me here or not._ “You should get back to your duties,” he encouraged her to leave. “No need to babysit me walking up a set of stairs.”

Hermione huffed again. “Alright, then,” she sniffed, turning on her heel to leave. Harry shook his head and stepped onto the stairs, riding them up to the top of the landing where the door to Dumbledore’s office stood. He was surprised when Dumbledore didn’t call out his name before remembering that this Dumbledore’s never met him and that he wasn’t a student here. He knocked on the door and waited for an answer. When he went to knock again, the door creaked open.

Tentatively pushing it open, he gazed around Dumbledore’s office while enforcing his Occlumency barriers and hiding his grief and other painful emotions behind them. He would have to sort through his memories and the grief later, but he had a meeting with a master Legillimens who didn’t know anything about him so he didn’t want to reveal anything suspicious.

All of the paintings of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses were either sleeping or pretending to sleep and the office looked almost exactly like the one his Dumbledore had. His eyes trailed over the room before landing on Fawkes, who was staring at him inquisitively.

Feeling a pull in his chest, Harry stepped toward the phoenix.

“Hello, Fawkes,” he said quietly. “Do you know me?” Fawkes trilled but didn’t mindspeak with him for some reason. Hedwig hooted, causing Fawkes to step over and make room for her on the perch.

“Ah, I see you’ve met Fawkes,” came Albus Dumbledore’s familiar voice from behind him, not only confirming why Fawkes probably didn’t mindspeak him and simultaneously bringing about another bout of grief.

“Yes,” Harry said instead, pushing off his emotions and petting the warm plumage of Fawkes’s feathers. The phoenix gave a happy and soulful trilling that made Harry’s grief lift. “He is a magnificent bird, sir,” he said before giving a pet to Hedwig so she wouldn’t get jealous.

“That he is,” Dumbledore said. Harry turned his faux blue eyes took in the Dumbledore of this world. He didn’t look too different but there were obvious differences; the shadows in his eyes that were hidden behind the man’s usual twinkle, and the way he carried himself, as if he was weighed down by an invisible burden.

“Please, take a seat,” Dumbledore said as he slid into his desk, gesturing to one of his ridiculously colorful but comfortable armchairs. Harry quirked a smile and perched on the edge of a green chair with neon-yellow polka dots on it.

“Thank you.”

It was silent for a few moments as Dumbledore overlooked Harry. He stood straight and met the man’s gaze head-on, relieved when the man didn’t take the chance to slide into his mind and view his memories.

“Minerva was right,” the old man said with a smile. “You do look like Sirius.” Harry quirked a brow. Dumbledore hadn’t mentioned in his letter that McGonagall had come to him, only Sirius and Remus.

“She was also concerned about your schooling,” Dumbledore allowed at the expression. “She brought her concerns to me about you seeming too young to be graduated.”

Harry felt a pang of annoyance but pushed it down. The woman should keep her affairs to herself but he knew she meant well. _That still didn’t mean she should pry into my business,_ thought Harry.

“Thank you for contacting me about attending lessons here,” said Harry, “though I am not sure I’ll accept the offer.”

Dumbledore frowned. “If it is a matter of continuing your work at The Three Broomsticks, I am sure you could make up a schedule with Madam Rosmerta.”

Harry pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I want to lose the freedom I currently have, sir,” said Harry. At the man’s raised brow, he continued, “I do more than just work at the pub. Not only do I have certain responsibilities, but I also don’t want to be confined to the school grounds. I’m also not even sure that I want to continue my schooling.

“I also don’t _have_ to attend the school to complete my NEWTs, you know. I’ve been doing enough independent studies that I suspect I’ll be ready to pass at least my Defence, Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration NEWTs without attending classes. The theory for Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology would be easy to study because I can order the required books, and I’m quite decent at practicals, though I admit that I _do_ need practice in those to understand what I’m doing fully.”

Harry frowned and continued, “There are also different classes I’d like to take that I hadn’t recently. I’ve been studying in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Spellcrafting, Warding, and Magical Theory independently, though I’m not sure how well I’ll do in those.”

“You could test into them,” Dumbledore suggested. He leaned back in his chair and thought for a few moments. “You do not have to be a full-time student,” Dumbledore said slowly. “I could simply have you on as a guest until you’re ready to commit to classes full time.”

Harry bit his cheek and mulled it over. “What exactly would being a guest mean?”

“It means that you have complete permission to come and go on the school grounds as you please. You would be welcome to continue coming to and from the school from your residency at The Three Broomsticks, though rooms could be provided here in the castle if needed. You won’t be obligated to attend classes or do homework, but if you do intend to complete your schooling here, doing the homework and classwork is highly recommended,” Dumbledore explained.

“What about the houses?” Harry asked. “I don’t really want to be sorted.” _And I don’t want to chance the Hat possibly spilling that I’m both a Gryffindor_ and _a Slytherin,_ _as well as all of my other dirty little secrets. The Sorting Hat does use a form of Legillimency, after all_ _._

“You’re welcome to remain unsorted,” said Dumbledore amicably. “You’ll be allowed to either drift from the House tables in the Great Hall for meals, or you could join the Head Table where myself and the school faculty all sit.”

Harry nodded and sat back in his chair to think it all over. He had the chance to finally, finally, after over a year, to be back at home. And not only that but also complete his schooling. He hadn’t put much thought into that when he agreed to let Fawkes take him here. Hadn’t put much thought into his _future_ because he never really expected to actually have one.

All of his life since rejoining the wizarding the world had been full of danger and pain and Voldemort, that he hadn’t thought of his future. Not even when he had career counseling in fifth year with McGonagall. He had simply blurted the first thing that came to mind, being an Auror, because not only was that expected of him, but because being an Auror could help him defeat Voldemort.

Harry had somehow known, even then before he was told the prophecy, that he would be the one facing down Voldemort at the end.

But now, even with a war currently going on, Harry could have a _future_. He had already defeated Voldemort once and he suspected that he would be able to do it again. And if and when he survives, he would be able to do what he wished. But he needed his NEWTs and OWLs to do that.

“I suppose I could sit in on a few classes,” said Harry slowly. “I’m not agreeing to anything yet, but I’d like to see if I like any of the classes and whether or not I’ll learn more from studying independently or not.”

Dumbledore tilted his head down in a nod. “Of course, Mr. Evans, you are welcome to do so. Would you like me to give you a list of all the available classes for seventh years for you to look over tonight? After you choose, we’ll see about making up a schedule for you to take the entrance exams. After that, we’ll draw up a schedule that you can follow for the classes you’ve passed.”

Harry nodded and watched as Dumbledore pulled out a piece of blank parchment and a quill. Dumbledore simply set it on the parchment and waved a hand, causing the quill to jump up and begin writing, occasionally dipping itself in the Headmaster’s fuchsia inkwell.

Dumbledore and Harry continued to chat noncommittally as they waited for the spelled quill to continue listing all of the classes and electives the school had. When it was done, Dumbledore simply looked over the list and rolled it up, handing it to Harry. Harry thanked him and pushed the scroll into his dragonskin backpack to look at later.

He then stood with Dumbledore following.

“I believe our meeting has come to a close,” said Dumbledore. Harry nodded, and just as he was about to say his goodbye and leave, a small trinket on Dumbledore’s shelf let out a chiming sound. Harry looked at it curiously and vaguely recognized it to be one of the items he trashed after Sirius had died. He fought down a sudden blush of shame and swiftly occluded his mind to push the embarrassing and grief-filled memory away, turning to Dumbledore with a raised brow.

“It appears that lunch is ready,” Dumbledore said joyfully. “Would you like to attend before you leave for Hogsmeade?”

Harry hesitated a second before replying. “I suppose that if I’ll be a guest here I’ll have to do it sooner or later, right?” he said with a wry grin.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Right you are, Mr. Evans.”

“You can call me Jamie, Professor,” said Harry.

Dumbledore inclined his head and gestured for Harry to leave first. Hedwig flew over and landed on his shoulder, causing Harry’s hand to go up and pet her feathers as he resisted his battle-worn instincts to _never_ turn your back on someone, especially such a powerful wizard as Dumbledore. He ignored the instincts and instead swiftly descended the stairs, waiting beside the gargoyle for Dumbledore.

He then followed him to the Great Hall.


	6. Chapter 6

**chapter six**

Harry followed Dumbledore down toward the Great Hall, anxiety building up in his chest. He had never really liked crowds as a child, and since the Dursley had never wanted him to be seen, he’d never really gotten the opportunity to get used to a lot of people until Hogwarts. And Hogwarts wasn’t the best place to get used to crowds because Harry was constantly either stared at because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, because he lost the house a few hundred points, or because he was believed to be a rampaging liar or Mudblood hater. Of course, his own very recent experiences with Death Eater attacks led to his hate of attacks.

As was normal when a few hundred were packed into a singular room together, the noise could be heard long before Harry reached the Great Hall. His grimace must have been visible because he heard the headmaster chuckle.

“Not a fan of crowds, I take it?” Dumbledore asked lightly.

“Not quite,” Harry said with a somewhat bitter smile. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dumbledore peering at him curiously but he simply eyed up the open doors that they were approaching.

“I’ll be sitting at the Head Table with you then?” Harry questioned, his shoulders tensing as he felt eyes following him.

“If you so wish,” said Dumbledore. “You’re welcome to take any seat you wish. We tend to move around as we please.”

Harry nodded and let his faux blue eyes sweep the hall and he immediately slammed down his Occlumency barriers and Occluded his mind as he caught sight of familiar face after familiar face. Flashes of various students dead and maimed whirled through his mind and he closed down those thoughts quickly, his expression revealing that. His face was now a mask of indifference though he knew his eyes were dark with a mix of pain and grief. A buzz of magic crackled under his skin and he took a few moments to settle it.

Many of the professors were staring at his curiously and Harry could see the connection they were making in their minds to his likeness to Sirius, who was currently absent, along with Remus.

“Where are Remus and Sirius?” Harry asked lightly, taking the offered seat next to the man. McGonagall was on his other side with Sprout and Flitwick near her. Snape was glowering at him from a few seats down from them for some reason and the Astronomy, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes teachers were sitting near him, along with Madam Hooch. There was another professor that Harry didn’t recognize sitting near them that made Harry curious, along with the fact that he couldn’t see Hagrid. Was Hagrid not the Care of Magical Creatures professor, then?

“I believe that—“ Dumbledore started before he was cut off.

“Jamie!” Harry’s eyes flicked toward the entrance where Sirius and Remus were entering. Sirius had a large grin on his face and Remus was rolling his eyes, trailing a little behind him. Both were smiling at him, which made him feel a little warm. They had only spoken once, and that had only been for a few hours, but it was nice that they seemed genuinely happy to see him.

“—answers your question,” Dumbledore finished, faintly amused.

“Professors,” Harry drawled as they approached him. Sirius and Remus swiftly took up the two seats next to him. Snape was now full-on sneering in their direction while Harry felt more people’s eyes on him, probably comparing his features to that of Sirius’s.

“Oh!” Sirius said, perking up from where he sat right next to him. “You’re attending, then?”

Sirius looked proud of himself, and as much as Harry appreciated them looking out for his well-being, he did not appreciate that they had gone behind his back about it. And he was going to make that clear from the very start because he intended to become closer to the two. Therefore, he simply raised a brow in Sirius’s direction and began plating himself some dinner calmly. After a few seconds of silent treatment, Sirius had shrunk into his chair minutely and both him and Remus looked someone guilty.

“I generally don’t like it when people _betray_ my trust, Sirius Black, and go talking behind my back,” Harry said lightly, putting a slight emphasis on the word betray. It was a subtle reminder of what Pettigrew had done and it had the desired effect. Both Sirius and Remus winced. “Nonetheless, I appreciate the fact that despite barely knowing me, you brought it upon yourself to look out for my wellbeing. So, I thank you for that.”

Harry could now feel many of the staff’s eyes on him, assessing him, but he simply continued to cut up his food and take small bites of it. After a few seconds, he placed his fork and knife down and turned to Sirius and Remus.

Remus was the first to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “We had no right to reveal the things you had confided in us about. In all honestly, we did just want to help you.” Harry inclined his head and turned to Sirius, who looked a tinge paler than normal. Harry felt a pang of regret for bringing up Pettigrew and his part in his parents’ subsequent murder, but he wanted to make it clear that he was not okay with snitches (of the tattletale variety, of course).

“We were in the wrong,” Sirius said seriously. “And while I apologize for revealing personal details about your past, I won’t apologize for asking Dumbledore to ask you if you wanted to go to Hogwarts.”

Harry looked at him. The apology was short but sincere, and since Harry knew that his Sirius wasn’t typically inclined to make apologies, he felt gratified. He also felt that although Sirius didn’t apologize for going to Dumbledore, that was the best apology he was going to get.

“Thank you,” he said with a small but genuine smile before it turned into a mischievous grin, “And no need to be so Sirius!” Both Remus and Sirius stared at him for a few seconds in disbelief before the latter let out a bark of laughter akin to a sound his Animagus form would make.

“Did you just make a name pun?” Remus asked, still looking slightly shocked. Harry wondered when the last time someone other than he and Sirius had made a pun on Sirius’s name.

“No,” said Harry, not bothering to hide the obvious lie as he smiled innocently. Someone nearby groaned and Harry ignored them. “I think we have a conversation to finish, though,” Harry continued. Sirius and Remus stared at him blankly and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Had they forgotten what they were talking about a few days ago?

“Our discussion on wandless magic and runes?” The two Marauders had matching expressions of ‘O’ on their faces.

“What’s this about wandless magic and runes?” a squeaky voice asked. Harry leaned past Dumbledore to look at Flitwick, who was peering at him curiously.

“We were discussing how Jamie didn’t know any of the theory before learning wandless magic,” Sirius cut in with a grin. Harry shot him a sharp glare as everyone nearby looked at him in curiosity.

“You didn’t know any of the theory?” Flitwick asked in shock and intrigue. “I saw how you levitated those plates without a second thought! You must have a very good handle on your magic.”

“Or just had a good teacher,” Harry shrugged.

“Did you?” Remus asked curiously.

“No,” Harry admitted grudgingly. “I taught myself. My school was attacked, remember?”

They were silent for a few awkward moments before one of the professors Harry didn’t know inquired, “What school was it?”

“A private school,” Harry said calmly but firmly. “That’s all you need to know.”

After another few awkward moments, Harry turned toward Sirius and Remus and inquired about their classes. He wanted to know if they were currently going over anything that he didn’t know so he could study ahead.

“We have the first and second years doing a lot of simple jinxes and hexes that can partially immobilize someone,” Remus began to explain. “Such as the body-bind curse and the leg-locker curse. There’s also the tripping hexes, and of course, a few of the simpler jinxes and hexes like the slug-vomiting hex.”

Harry’s face turned into that of disgust as he remembered how Ron’s wand backfired in second year and he was forced to vomit slugs. Remus and Sirius, and a few others laughed and sympathized with his expression. Harry was sure he wasn’t the only one who had first or second-hand experience with the hex.

“I suppose that’s one way immobilize someone,” Harry admitted before musing aloud, “And the colour of the spell could easily be mistaken for the Killing Curse, it’s similar enough that you’d be able to miss it if you’re in the middle of a serious situation. Even if you don’t hit someone with the curse, it’s useful in a duel. You can either distract someone long enough to follow-up with a stunner in the direction they dodge or you can immobilize them easily. I know silent casting is covered in sixth year, but most don’t know how to do it well and tend to revert to whispering, wording, or saying their curses. And you can’t exactly do a spell properly if you’re vomiting slugs.”

Many of the surrounding professors were looking at Harry with appraising glances. “What?” Harry asked at the somewhat shocked looks Sirius and Remus were giving him. He gestured to himself and said, “Honorary Defence professor, remember?”

“'Honorary Defence professor'?” Dumbledore asked him.

Harry nodded shortly but kept his expression closed off. “I ran a sort-off Defence club at my old school before…” He cut off with a grimace that wasn’t completely fake. _Fat lot that did to help everyone survive._

Remus, most likely knowing where Harry’s thoughts had turned, piped up. “I never really thought of using the Slug-Vomiting hex like that in a duel. Most of the duels we run here are small practice tournaments instead of battle reenactments, so we’re not exactly throwing around lethal spells.”

Harry sent him a somewhat disapproving look. “There’s a war going on,” Harry pointed out. Remus inclined his head, showing that he understood what he wasn’t saying. “How much do you discuss dueling tactics in your classes? I know there’s the curriculum you need to cover for their annual testing, but most of that you can assign for reading. Theory can only do so much. I know you two probably have more experience than me, but I’d be willing to point out more helpful or out-of-the-box options.”

Sirius and Remus nodded slowly. “The upper years mainly get dueling tactics,” Sirius admitted.

“What year?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“Fifth.”

Harry frowned. Some of his students in the DA had been third years.

“Do you think we should go earlier than that?” Remus asked with a frown.

Harry thought over what to say. On one hand, dueling tactics won’t really mean much for the lower years who barely know a collection of spells, but on the other hand, many of the first and second-year spells can be used in pretty creative ways if only people _knew_ how to use them. You may not be able to take someone out permanently with first or second-year spells, but you could distract someone long enough to get away or until help came.

“I honestly think that once the first years know a couple of spells, that they should be taught dueling,” Harry admitted. Many of those listening to their discussion had raised brows in surprise. “I know they’d barely know any spells, but there are ways to apply them creatively. Take _Winguardium Leviosa_ , for example; it was one of the first Charms I was taught in school. It may not be a Defence spell, but you could use it on someone’s pant leg to trip them up. Of course, you could use the tripping jinx or the jelly-leg jinx or another jinx for that, but with _Winguardium Leviosa_ you can actually dictate, to a certain extent, in which direction someone will trip—”

“—So you can send a stunner or a body-bind in that direction,” Sirius finished for him, nodding along with Remus, who looked thoughtful.

“That’s not exactly fair dueling,” Flitwick pointed out from where he was listening to their conversation.

Harry simply raised a brow at the Charms professor and dueling champion, and quoted something he’d heard once, “'All is fair in love and war.'”

“Touché, Mr. Evans,” Flitwick said with a smile, inclining his head. “I can tell that we’re going to have quite a few interesting discussions this year. That example of a charm for dueling was quite unconventional. Do you have any other charms that could be used for dueling?”

Flitwick's eyes were glinting much like the goblins he was related to. Goblins may generally be thought of as greedy for money, precious metals, and jewels, but they were also greedy for knowledge. There was no wonder why Flitwick, who was a quarter goblin if Harry remembered correctly, was in Ravenclaw.

“Aguamenti,” Harry said immediately, “followed up by a freezing charm. Another simple way to trip your opponent up. If they don’t trip immediately, you can just cast _Tarantellegra_ at them to make them dance on the ice. An over-powered tickling charm does wonders, too. Have you ever laughed so hard that your ribs hurt and you could barely breathe?”

Many people winced at the thought. Laughing was fun, but when you were laughing so hard that your sides hurt _and_ you couldn’t stop it, that could easily be used as a form of torture. And Dumbledore pointed that out.

“That would be considered torture,” he said with a disapproving frown.

“It’ll hurt less than the Cruciatus,” Harry pointed out bluntly, making a few people wince. “Though you may point out that since the pain is localized in one area, rather than on your whole body, it could make it worse, especially since you’ll have difficulties breathing. But it should only be used long enough to distract your opponent to stun or bind them. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind causing my enemies a little pain if they’re trying to kill me.”

Harry’s eyes flashed as he said the last sentence and he couldn’t help the small smirk that pulled at the corner of his lips. Death Eaters deserved a little pain for all the pain they caused. He had no qualms about dealing it out, too.

“Anyway,” continued Harry, shaking his head. “I’m just pointing out different dueling tactics that all years can use, but particularly the children. The first and second years are at a distinct disadvantage because you don’t get into really difficult and truly useful spells until third year so they‘d need all the help and out-of-the-box thinking they can get. Plus, it’ll distract anyone trying to hurt them long enough for them to either escape or until help comes.”

“Do you think that the younger years will be targeted?” Dumbledore asked with a frown. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

“The Muggleborn and certain half-bloods, yes,” said Harry blandly. Dumbledore simply inclined his head, understanding his point. The twinkle in his eyes had diminished at the topics Harry was currently discussing with the rest of the staff, but Harry couldn’t help but not feel guilty. Dumbledore did not want the children involved in the war, but they already were. They weren’t necessarily going to fight _now_ , but they may have to eventually.

 _But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?_ Harry told himself. _To fight for them._

The discussion about various non-Defence spells that could be used in a duel continued and Harry chimed it on occasion but listened to what the other professors were discussing. Apparently, all of them were quite enthused about the possible set of spells that could be used to incapacitate an enemy. Sirius and Remus were discussing how to bring this up in their classes, which made Harry smirk on the inside. His influence was already spreading.

Not long after, Harry looked up and spotted Hedwig flying toward him. He blinked, not having realized that she had disappeared. Lifting an arm for her to perch on, Harry asked her, “What have you got for me, girl?”

Hedwig simply hooted and lifted her leg toward him. Harry untied the small note and handed Hedwig a piece of the ham on his plate while conjuring a small dish of water for her to drink out of before she could stick her beak in his goblet. The owl had formed a habit of drinking out of his goblet which Harry wanted to squash. Harry may love Hedwig, but he didn’t know what was on that beak of hers, especially when she went out hunting.

Turning over the small note, Harry smirked as he saw that it was from Rosmerta. “I told her she’d need my help,” he murmured to Hedwig. The owl simply ruffled her feathers and knicked another piece of ham from his plate. “Sure, help yourself,” he told her, rolling his eyes. Hedwig did so while somehow managing to appear haughty. He snorted.

As he opened the note, his attention turned away from his plate and to the words Rosmerta had written. He frowned deeply.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked in concern, not trying to peer over Harry’s shoulder. He had learned his lesson about delving into his personal business, it seemed.

“Rosie needs help back at the pub,” he said, a scowl fitting on his face. “A group of kids that tend to come in after work and cause a mess decided it was a good idea to let loose a bunch of fireworks in the pub and managed to half-burn it down because they were wet-start so the usual charms didn’t work. I’ll bloody kill them if any of my stuff has been damaged. They’re bloody adults, they should know better.”

“You called them kids,” Remus said, blinking. “But you’re a kid.”

Harry smiled humourlessly. “I haven’t really been a kid in years,” he snorted. “Those group of ‘young adults’ come in acting like first years and always leave a mess behind to clean up. I know it doesn’t take long with magic, probably ten seconds tops, but I like to do it without magic. I think I’m going to go down there and take a strip out of their hide before putting them to work.”

Harry was quite sure that smirk that crawled across his face was sadistic. It was, admittedly, a bad trait he’d picked up after dealing with Death Eaters after seeing the aftermaths of their attacks both first-hand ad via his connection with Voldemort, but he didn’t necessarily care. As far as he was concerned, the Death Eaters will get what he deserved.

Standing, his plate disappeared (due to the house elves overhearing, Harry assumed) and causing Hedwig to hoot indignantly as she had been picking at his food. She flapped her wings and jumped to his shoulder, a little put-out.

“Try not to kill them,” Sirius said, obviously amused as he, too, stood and clapped a hand on Harry’s free shoulder, causing him to cringe a little at the touch. Harry was simply not used to touch that wasn’t meant to harm him, but he felt a little warm at the platonic action from his godfather-who-didn’t-know-he-was-his-godfather.

Sirius removed his hand at the slight flinch but thankfully didn’t call attention to it.

“Let us walk you out,” Remus suggested.

“I won’t,” Harry said to Sirius about the troublemakers and nodding to Remus and following him around the table and down the middle of the hall. Harry’s smile was most likely still a little sadistic if the students’ reactions to him were saying anything. They were all looking at him wide-eyed, including many of the upper years and almost all of the younger years. “They may initially refuse to help with the repairs, but when I’m done with them, they’ll be begging to help. Without their wands.”

“Oof, manual labor,” Remus said, joining in on the banter. He was just as amused as Sirius, it seemed. “Tough.”

“It’ll teach them a lesson,” said Harry seriously even though he was still smiling. “I’ll resort to painful methods if I have to.”

Sirius simply raised a brow and Harry shrugged.

“Stinging hexes are quite painful if a little overpowered and leave quite the sting,” he said simply. “And the best part is that they don’t usually leave long-term marks unless super overpowered. And I don’t want to harm them enough that they can’t work effectively.”

They were out in the entrance hall at this point and so Remus casually asked, “Personal experience?”

It took Harry a few moments to decide whether or not to answer him. Eventually, he commented, “My childhood wasn’t the best” and didn’t say anything else.

He’d let them connect the dots on their own, eventually, but he didn’t want to give out so much information if their relationship didn’t turn out how Harry hoped.

Remus inclined his head and so did Sirius. Harry admittedly didn’t know much about his godfather’s past, only that it hadn’t been good, but he suspected that they were more similar to one another than he originally thought. It made his heart ache for the man who had died to protect him.

They walked down the trail that lead to Hogsmeade quietly, simply thinking about things. When they got to the gate, they all stopped.

“I’m looking forward to having you in classes,” Sirius said. Remus nodded and Harry smiled at them.

“I look forward to attending, though, admittedly, I’m not sure how much I’ll learn from you,” he admitted. “I’ve been doing a lot of research this past few years.”

“You’re Defence club,” Remus nodded. Harry nodded since some of the research _had_ been for the DA and he had already revealed a lot about himself today.

“Are you going to start classes tomorrow?” Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head. “No, Dumbledore gave me a list of the classes to see which ones I want to take. I’m going to test into any of the classes I want to take and someone will draw up a schedule for me. I won’t have to attend any of the classes if I don’t want to, though, and I’m not even sure this is what I want to do. I have enough time to study on my own to take my N.E.W.T.s at the Ministry.”

They both frowned a little but nodded, knowing that it was his decision in the end.

“Well, Jamie,” Sirius said with a grin, “good luck with your ass whooping.”

Harry smirked as Remus smacked Sirius’s shoulder.

“You two better head back up to the castle before you’re late for any of your classes,” Harry smirked. “It would be terribly embarrassing to be late to your own class.”

Remus shook his head in amusement. “We’ll see you later, Jamie,” he said kindly. “Come on, Sirius.”

Harry watched them leave for a few moments before drawing up his hood and heading back toward Hogsmeade. His heart tugged a little as he turned his back on his family who didn’t even know him and Harry vowed to protect them.


End file.
